The Black Door
by Theano
Summary: This story is for everyone like me, who wishes there had been a Canderous romance option in KotOR 1. Primarily a walkthough, but it gets more AU as it goes along. Complete!
1. Taris: After the Endar Spire

**Title:** The Black Door  
><strong>Author:<strong> Theano  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Yet another walkthrough story! Slightly AU, gets more so as the story goes along.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> The characters and situations of _Star Wars_ and _Knights of the Old Republic_ belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Ltd., Lucas Arts, and Bioware. My only profit is fun!

**I. Taris: After the **_**Endar Spire**_

Fire and pain.

_I've been here before._

Metal screamed as the ship - the whole galaxy - tried to tear itself apart. Lights flickered, once, twice, but didn't die.

Val stumbled through the broken passageways, dodging as many of the enemy boarders as she could. The only one else left alive - the only person she knew on the whole ship, her bunkmate Trask, was probably dead now - or as good as, anyway. If that dark Jedi hadn't already killed him. She hoped he was dead. She didn't want to think about what the Sith would do to him otherwise.

Down one companionway, up another, avoiding the heat and shearing of plasteel rubble that had been an intact bulkhead only a few minutes ago. Blaster pistol in one hand, vibroblade in the other, and both had tasted death today.

_I've been here before._

Another explosion knocked her off her feet; the world went dark for a moment - an hour? a second? - and then her vision cleared, revealing a pair of black boots two inches from her nose.

It would be so easy. Surrender, and the whole awful mess would be done. Her entire existence could be measured in heartbeats - _When have I been here before? - _and the chudding of enemy turbolasers.

"On your feet, soldier! Where's Ensign Ulgo?"

Val shook her head clear. She'd made it to the pod bay, and someone else had, too, beyond all hope of survival. "Dead - he's dead. Dark Jedi."

"At least Bastila got off, thank the Force."

"Who - ?"

"Sith-damned incompetent. But I can't just leave you here. Come on, into the escape pod, watch your head, there you go."

Her head was still spinning, and she couldn't manage the crash webbing by herself. Shame prickled behind her eyes as the other survivor, cursing under his breath, buckled her in, then himself. He yanked a lever down, slapped a flashing red panel, and then the bottom dropped out of the universe.

* * *

><p><em>Fire and pain.<em>

_It was the dream, the same dream, every night since she'd woken up in the med bay to find that she didn't even remember her name._

_A fiery blade wielded by a pillar of righteous fury. Had to be a Jedi. And then betrayal. She'd expected it to come someday - but not like this, dear Force, not like this._

_I trusted you!_

* * *

><p>"Valena, that's it, right? Valena Retee?"<p>

Val nodded, scrubbing the grit out of her eyes. Three days, he'd said. Three days she'd been out of it, tumbling through the old nightmare, unable to wake, but unable to truly sleep.

Lieutenant Carth Onasi. She remembered him now. War hero. Wouldn't take the frag from anyone but what he dished out himself. She remembered seeing him once or twice aboard the _Endar Spire_, appreciating him out of the corner of her eye so he wouldn't see her looking. He thought he was hot stuff. Didn't help that he was right.

Onasi handed her a pile of clothes. Her clothes. "Sorry, I - well, I had to take care of you." She glared, pulling the bed sheet tighter around herself, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Then he did, questioningly. "So where did you get…?"

Rubbing her left hand over the faded scars on her bare right arm, Val grimaced. "The healers said it was Rodian death seed." Carth pulled away, as if a few extra inches would have given him protection from such a plague. "No, they got it, but - but the fever, and then the drugs they had to use, burned out my mind. The blisters - kolto's not perfect, so the scars never healed." She had them all down her right side, as if someone had raked her with a flechette gun and then left her to die.

They told her she was from Telos, she said - an odd look crossed Carth's face at that - but after the destruction there, her records had disappeared. She didn't even know if she had a family somewhere. The healers said she'd never had children, though, and that was some relief. After that, she'd joined up with the Republic military - new name, new identity - and next thing she knew she was assigned aboard the _Endar Spire_.

"So you've got no memory from before you were sick?" Carth shook his head and whistled low under his breath. "Well, but you survived all that, and then survived the escape pod, so I guess you can survive damn near anything. Which is good. We need to get out of here, find Bastila, get off this rock. The Republic won't last long without her."

He turned around while Val dressed. "Who's this Bastila?" she asked.

"I guess you hit your head harder than I thought. Bastila Shan was the lead Jedi on the _Spire_. She's the reason why the war is going so well."

"I thought we were losing?"

"Heh. Thanks for the vote of confidence. No, not quite yet, mostly thanks to the Jedi."

She zipped her suit up to the chin and looked around. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Taris," Carth explained, turning back to face her. "Right on the edge of Republic space. Well, not exactly Republic space, not anymore, since the Sith have taken it. That's the other reason we've got to get out of here. But it won't be easy. The whole planet's under blockade. No one leaves unless they've got the proper codes."

She frowned at him. He shrugged and offered a smile. "I've been busy while you were asleep."

From their run-down squat to the Upper City cantina for a bite and a bit of innocuous conversation with the locals; then from there to the sublevels. Carth had done a deal with a Duros on the run from the Exchange: the few credits he had for a potentially incriminating set of Sith papers that could get them past the lazy guards at the lift.

They stepped out of the elevator and barely avoided a small gang war.

Val had no idea what under the stars a "vulkar" or a "bek" was, but judging by their namesake gang members throwing insults and blaster bolts at each other, they must have been large, brutish, and none-too-smart beasts. A bored Sith guard at the end of the rundown corridor leaned against the grimy wall, his helmet off, a very non-regulation cigarra glowing between his lips as he watched his afternoon entertainment.

When it was over, Carth stripped the corpses, pocketing a holdout blaster and a vibroblade. Val felt ill.

They followed a set of garishly flashing lights. "Javyar's Cantina," the neon glow read. "You start a fight, we gas the place. THIS MEANS YOU."

Val shook her head. "Huh. I'm liking this planet more and more the longer we're stuck here."

Inside, it was at least cleaner than the sublevel corridors. Either that, or the low lighting masked the dirt and grime. Carth stepped into a bounty office run by a Hutt, while Val tried to look like she was enjoying herself.

"Hey! Knock it off, bugface!"

Val's head whipped around at the shrill voice. A pair of Rodians were harassing a young, blue-skinned Twi'lek, one behind her leering suggestively over her shoulder, the other making lewd gestures.

"You wouldn't even know where to put it, Twinky," the Twi'lek spat. She elbowed the alien behind her, hard, and yelled. "Hey, Big Z - a little help here?"

A Wookiee at a corner table unfolded into a great, furry menace. One paw grabbed the Rodian behind the girl, another scooped up the one now trying to fondle and grope her. He brought his two handfuls together like misshapen green cymbals; their heads knocked together, and they slumped into a foul-smelling pile at the Twi'lek's feet.

Val waited for the _THIS MEANS YOU_ gassing to start, but nothing happened.

The Twi'lek caught Val staring at her, and smiled. "Never hurts to have friends bigger and meaner than you, huh?"

Val couldn't help herself. She laughed and nodded, as the two Rodians picked themselves up and wordlessly stumbled away.

"I'm Mission, by the way. Mission Vao. The big furball here is Zaalbar. We're the Lower City's official welcoming committee, and you sure look like you could use a welcome!"

Mission was completely disarming. It was probably deliberate, Val thought, but it worked anyway. She joined Mission and Zaalbar at their table and started talking.

"…And then we got separated, and we haven't seen our cousin since," she lied carefully. That was the story she and Carth had agreed on before they left; a small family reunion separated by the Sith invasion, with most of the family barely getting off the planet before the blockade fell, Valena and Carth left behind to find their missing relative.

Something about the mention of _family_ seemed to bother Mission, but she hid it behind an ingénue's smile and a sympathetic tilt of her head. "So your cousin - pretty lady, short brown hair, likes to wear Jedi robes?"

"Uh - well, that is - "

"Grab your boy-toy, sweetie. I know just the fellow to help you guys out…"

* * *

><p><em>How the hell did I get myself into this?<em> Valena wondered. The swoop bike rumbled beneath her, threatening to buck her off as soon as the counter flashed down to _GO_. The only reason why swoop racing was still allowed on every planet, while podracing was outlawed in most of Republic space, was that only one rider raced their heat at a time on a swoop track.

That didn't make it all that much less dangerous.

The green light flashed, Val kicked the accelerator into a scream, and hung on for dear life.

And five seconds later, wiped out.

Thanking the stars that the swoop track's safety field had caught her, she limped back to the sounds of boos and hisses. The crowd was mostly made up of Black Vulkars, Hidden Beks, and other gang members and assorted lowlifes. Gadon Thek, the blind leader of the Beks, pulled her aside.

"Don't worry, Val. I know you can do this. Everyone wipes out their first time on the track."

"Right. My time was - " she checked the boards " - five-point-three seconds. That's really encouraging."

"Actually, yes - it is. My first time on the track, I lasted a whole three-fifths of a second." The disturbing blue of his ocular implants caught and held her gaze. "It's all about balance. Think _ahead_ of where you are. Now you've got two more heats. Use the next one to learn the track - don't worry about speed. Wait till your third to really show me what you can do."

_Great_, she thought. _Why didn't he tell me that before I ran my _first _heat?_

Carth nodded at her nervously. Mission gave her a grin and a big thumbs-up.

Her second time, she actually made it through to the end. A minute and a half, though - it felt more like a leisurely tour. She glanced at the score display and winced. She was bottom of the running, five other racers ahead of her, with the next longest time being twenty-eight seconds even.

Instead of booing, now the crowd was laughing.

Val leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes, and thought through the track. The safety field, which would make sure she got nothing more than a scrape or a cracked rib, also interfered with the swoop's repulsors in such a way that she couldn't really steer well at any sort of speed. She would have to make a no-field run; not quite legal, but the gang members wouldn't be calling in any regulatory committees. The track was deliberately strewn with obstacles, though - old signposts, scraps of crashed bikes, debris from who knew how many previous races. If she could manage not to smear herself all over those, there were also the booster pads; and if she could maneuver over as many of them as possible - _without_ crashing - each would give her swoop bike an accelerating kick that would better her chance of breaking out into the lead.

She took three slow, deep breaths. _Think _ahead _of where I am._ Suddenly she saw the entire track in her mind, as if someone had implanted her with a holoplayer. She knew what to do, where to dodge, when to downshift, which booster pads to hit. She could do it. If only her hands would stop shaking.

"Gadon?"

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound really strange. Can you take me out to the track? I think - I need to keep my eyes shut for just a little bit longer."

She could almost feel him smiling.

"No, Val, that doesn't sound strange at all. In fact, I think you're about to win this race."

She could feel the slight breeze whistling through the tunnel of the track. She could hear the ticking and idling of the swoop engine, the increasing beep of the counter, and then the scream of the accelerator at exactly the same instant the counter rang _GO_.

Tears leaked under her lashes and her nose ran as the wind whipped across her face. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her concentration and loosened her grip on the steering handle. A touch to the left, then the right, the brief air pressure as she skimmed by an obstacle, then the _swooop_ of a booster pad. Downshift turned into dodge melted into another boost, and she was flying, and laughing, and crying all at once.

Then it was over. She felt like someone had skinned her alive, and replaced all her joints with jelly. She knew the bike had drifted to a stop, but she could have sworn she was moving at light speed.

The crowd erupted.

Carth's voice, his hands on hers, peeling her fingers off the steering handles. "Val? Come on, Valena, you can open your eyes now. You did it."

She breathed in and looked around. Had she - ? Yes. She had beaten the top score by nine-tenths of a second.

With her eyes closed.

Then the leader of the Black Vulkars withdrew that precious prize, the Republic woman, the only known survivor of the Republic ship now a debris field above Taris. And then the supposedly helpless woman broke out of both the neural disruptor and the steel-barred cage.

And then all hell broke loose.


	2. Jedi Escape

**A/N:** Any dialogue you recognize throughout this story belongs to the wonderful folks at Obsidian and BioWare, without whom I would not have the (geeky, weird, obsessed, etc.) life I have today.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>II. Jedi Escape<strong>

Darth Malak was a man who refused to take no for an answer. A long time ago, things had been different. He had been different. But then the Mandalorian Wars came.

The Jedi Council - bone-dry old men, Revan had once called them, making hidebound proclamations from their ivory tower. They had decided on patience. Peace. They meditated, while the galaxy burned. They didn't care about worlds or lives or civilization, only about the supposed infallibility of their teachings.

But he had learned things from war, things the Jedi didn't know about - or, more likely, preferred to keep locked away from the tender ears of their Padawans and lower ranking knights. Things like power. Things like fear.

Very well. The Mandalorians had been defeated and scattered. So he, Malak, Dark Lord of the Sith, would bring the galaxy down around the Council's ears. He'd had enough of their patience and peace.

But first -

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to see Admiral Karath approaching.

"Any news of the Jedi?"

"Bastila has escaped, my lord. Our men have not been able to locate her."

"Very well. Begin orbital bombardment."

"M-my lord?"

"Having second thoughts, Admiral?"

"No, my lord. But what about our troops still down on the surface?"

"The penalty for failure is death, Admiral Karath. And they have failed me."

* * *

><p>"I find it hard to believe that a pair of mere soldiers could have even found me, much less 'rescued' me, if that's what you want to call it." Bastila Shan looked down her charming nose at Val and Carth. "Not that I needed a rescue, thank you."<p>

"Right," Carth said. "Because you handled the Vulkar death squad so well on your own. Not to mention getting caught in the first place. I thought you Jedi could get out of anything, as long as you had the Force and a lightsaber."

Bastila blushed prettily.

"Ohhh, I get it. You lost your lightsaber when your pod crashed, didn't you?"

"I…" Bastila slumped. "You won't mention this to the Council when we return to Dantooine, will you?"

Carth's smirk softened. "Of course not. Everyone makes mistakes, even Jedi. I notice you had no trouble getting it back - looks like the Force was with you when the scum who captured you dug it out of the crash, too."

Val had to chuckle at the memory of their escape: the idiot Vulkars had kept Bastila's lightsaber as a trophy, putting it on display only a few meters away from its owner.

It had been a very short fight.

The young Jedi nodded, a satisfied gleam in her eye. "But I really do find it… unusual… that the two of you were able to find me and help me. Especially - " she looked at Val oddly, her eyes lingering on Val's scars - "Valena, is it? I may have been fighting the effects of the neural disruptor, but I saw the way you raced. I don't think just anyone could have done that. And the fact that there was help for you at every turn on such a hostile planet - more than mere coincidence is at work here."

Val frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean - well, perhaps this is best discussed with the Council later. But, I think, I think you may actually be Force sensitive, Valena."

The rushing of the swoop bike beneath her, the way she could see the track with more than her eyes, how everything suddenly turned clear as if time itself had slowed down to take her hand and show her exactly what to do. Was that what the Force felt like? Was that what it was like to be a Jedi?

She didn't think she could handle more than one experience like that. She shook her head. "Why don't we just concentrate on finding a way out of here?"

Carth nodded. "I was talking with that cute kid, Mission, during the race. She knows someone who knows someone, if you know what she means."

Val smiled, thinking of the lovely young Twi'lek. Pretty, like most females of her species, not quite the ravishing beauty that she would eventually blossom into; but somehow - probably due to the presence of a certain Wookiee - Mission had avoided the slavery that far too many Twi'lek women found themselves bound into.

Bastila raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Who and where is this 'Mission'?"

"Okay, Val, let's show the lady the sights."

* * *

><p>"Just don't tell Canderous it was me who told you about him!"<p>

That was what Mission had demanded after she'd explained the Mandalorian on Davik Kang's payroll. Kang, the local Exchange crime boss for this sector of space, was known to brag about owning the fastest light freighter from here to Corellia - and the fact that he had a widely feared Mandalorian warrior working for him.

Canderous Ordo was rumored to have fought at Onderon at the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars, though Mission said she'd heard it from someone who'd heard it from someone else that Ordo was on Tatooine at the start of the war, hunting krayt dragons single-handedly with nothing but a vibroblade and a bad attitude.

Val had smiled and nodded at the girl's hero worship, but now, looking Canderous Ordo square in the eye, she could almost believe the outlandish tale.

A scarred and pitted face held the shadow of a beard. His eyes raked Bastila once and dismissed her, looked at Carth more appraisingly, and finally settled, hawk-like, on Val.

"Heh. Tell that Twi'lek brat I won't eat her."

Val blinked. Carth cleared his throat.

"Don't bother, I know why you're here. And the answer is yes, I can help you get through the Sith blockade and off Taris. For a price."

"And what exactly is your 'price'?" Bastila asked, as though she expected him to demand something unspeakably lewd.

"I come with you."

"Really, I don't think - "

"I'm not surprised."

Bastila stopped, her mouth open in affront. Carth stifled a laugh.

Val put her hands up. "No, okay, stop. What do you want us to do?"

She could have sworn the Mandalorian almost smiled. "I happen to know of a certain droid who could get you into the Sith base…"

_Here we go again_, Val thought.

* * *

><p>T3-M4 whistled the refrain of a popular tune while he sliced the door panel. The little astromech, Val decided, looked like the most harmless of the beings she'd met so far on this hellhole of a planet. Beside her, Carth muttered under his breath, urging the droid to hurry, hurry. Canderous and Bastila had agreed to work together long enough to start a riot in the lower levels of the city, and there were no Sith soldiers in sight.<p>

For now.

The droid beeped happily, and the door slid open.

"Only authorized personnel are - oh no, please don't hurt me!" A middle-aged Twi-lek woman stood up at the desk, staring wide-eyed at their blaster rifles. "The Sith, they - I don't want to work for them, they made me do it, please - "

Carth smiled and winked at her. "First, take your hand off the silent alarm. You didn't trip it, did you? No? Well, we'll see. Get out of here, go home, and you never saw us."

She scuttled away and disappeared.

Val moved over behind the desk. "If she did trip an alarm, it's not showing up on the terminal here. But I have no idea what I'm looking for. Tee-Three, can you - oh."

The droid had already jacked into the terminal, and was busily humming and tootling his way through a layout of the complex. A text window popped up on the screen.

SHOULD I DISABLE THE DROID SECURITY?

"Uh, yeah, that would be good - no, wait! Can you screw up their programming? Make them think that the Sith in the base are really enemies?"

The droid blatted at her.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Behind the two internal blast doors, they began to hear the zing and squeal of blasterfire. Val nodded at Carth, took a deep breath, and slapped the door controls.

The corridor was cold and clean, plascrete painted an unimaginative gunmetal grey. Echoes of screams, blasters and rifles firing in an uncoordinated panic, led them toward another door on the left. They waited a few seconds longer, until the sound of firing died down.

T3 was the first one through, whistling cheerily as if he belonged there. A blaster-burned security droid looked at him, aimed its rifle, and collapsed into a broken heap.

Val tried not to look too closely at the details of the room. She figured there had been at least three people in here - probably - but she didn't want to count up the parts to make sure. "Where are we, Tee-Three? Do you know where they keep the codes?"

"Probably in the governor's offices," Carth replied. "But I have no idea where those are."

T3 said, "_Dwooo_."

"It wasn't in the layout?"

"_Wheeep. Blat. Whrrr."_

"I guess that means we have to go through the entire complex," Carth sighed. "Did you at least lock down the outer doors?"

"_Tttttthhhhhppppptt!_"

"Okay, okay, I was just making sure!"

"We'd better hurry," Val said. "I don't think Bastila and Canderous' diversion is going to last that long."

"Okay, well, we can be quiet, or we can be fast. Which one is it?"

"...I think quiet is already out of the question."

It turned out that they wouldn't have had to be very quiet anyway. Most of the flesh-and-bloods were splattered over the walls, while what remained of the droid security hobbled around in broken circles. Val was glad she'd thought to have T3 mess the security droids up. She didn't want to consider what a running battle with a base full of Sith troopers would have been like.

They were definitely taking this little guy with them, if they managed to escape the base, and the planet.

Ten minutes later, they found a turbolift. Two minutes after that, they found the governor's offices. With a very-much-alive Sith governor still inside.

Apparently he didn't trust security droids. Not that Val could blame him.

"Two Republic soldiers, eh?" Yellow eyes worked back and forth, examining both of them. "Normally, I'd hardly think you a challenge, but since you've gotten this far…"

Val suddenly found herself frozen to the spot, little electrical tingles crawling up and down her skin. She managed to move her eyes just far enough to catch sight of Carth, standing stiff and quivering like her. What under the stars…?

He had to be a dark Jedi. No one else could have done something like this. Her heart battered her ribs, slamming against its own prison as her terrified mind slammed against the invisible prison holding her body. She was trapped!

The Sith lord casually unsheathed an elegant vibrosword, and Val thought desperately, _Where's Tee-Three?_

As if in answer, white-hot electrical claws mangled the air around the Sith lord, burning his body and dashing him hard against the wall. Val caught herself before she fell as whatever Force-spell she'd been under suddenly broke. Her terror evaporated, and she found herself angry - furious. She pumped blasterfire into the governor's twitching body, but that wasn't enough. She grabbed the governor's own blade, and started swinging.

Something in her body knew that she knew elegant styles of fencing and swordplay, but this wasn't anything near what her muscles remembered. All she cared about was the feel of metal parting flesh and the satisfyingly wet sounds it made.

Something in her mind tasted the governor's sneering inadequacies, wove each slice of pain into another calculated cruelty, and called it justice.

"Val! Stop! _Stop!_"

She lowered the sword slowly, trembling.

"He's dead, Val. Really, really dead."

"_Dwooo. Bip._"

Carth stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. Val tasted copper and salt on her upper lip. The blade in her hand belonged to someone else, as did the blood dripping from the wicked edge. Opening her hand, she let the sword fell to the floor with a discordant clang; then she turned and fled.


	3. Dantooine: The Jedi Enclave

**III. Dantooine: The Jedi Enclave**

"I don't know that I can trust her after this, Bastila. You didn't see her." Carth was making no effort to keep his voice down. It carried easily from the cockpit through the rest of the ship.

Bastila's voice was an unintelligible murmur.

Val rocked back against the Ebon Hawk's cargo hold bulkhead. It was a small ship; clean, despite the spice, slaves and other contraband the late and unlamented Davik Kang had undoubtedly used it to run. After beginning their faked riot, Canderous and Bastila (with some clever mischief from Mission) had been very busy making a mess of the Kang estate - and the irate crime lord himself - while Carth and Val were in the Sith base.

Val had come out first, angry and terrified and not thinking straight. Carth and T3 had at least remembered to slice and copy the governor's codes. And Canderous, Bastila, and the others had flown the Ebon Hawk out while the world ended under Sith capital ship weapons.

Fire and pain.

A weathered hand appeared in front of Val's face. "Get up," Canderous ordered. She took his hand, levering herself to her feet. "Sonic shower in the head," he said. "Use it."

It was a relief to have someone speak to her. Even more of a relief to have someone telling her what to do, where to go. She was too tired to think about anything right now. Just do what the Mandalorian said. Everything else would sort itself out. Maybe.

Val didn't want look at herself in the mirror yet. The shower cabinet would barely fit her, and she wondered distantly how the Wookiee who had come along with Mission would manage to stay clean.

Flakes of reddish black drifted down like greasy soot and ash over the shower floor as the low hum of sonics buzzed gently over her skin. She wondered if anyone at all was left alive back on Taris.

They didn't even really need the codes in the end, Val thought ironically. They'd escaped purely by luck - or Bastila's vaunted Force - while the city-planet crumbled under the Sith fleet's orbital bombardment. Turbolasers had roared down like a hellish thunderstorm. Other ships had desperately taken off, but Val and her companions were the only ones, as far as she knew, to have made it.

It wasn't even because of her. The Sith had wanted Bastila, and they hadn't found her, and so they had leveled an entire planet hoping to kill a single Jedi. Val couldn't imagine how one person could be so important. Or so dangerous.

And Carth said he didn't trust _Valena_.

_I trusted you!_ she remembered thinking, but couldn't remember when, or who had betrayed her, or why she'd ever trusted whomever it was.

She had nothing else to wear other than her Republic-issue armored coveralls, so she hung those in the shower, set it to cycle, took a long, slow breath, and turned to the mirror.

Her dark hair was still oily and lank - there was only so much a sonic shower could do, after all - but at least she looked human again. She dug out the black grit beneath her fingernails and washed her hands under the spigot - actual water, filtered back and forth between here and the galley. Leaning over the sink, she soaped and rinsed her hair. Then she retrieved her clothes and dressed while the shower cabinet flushed itself.

Val wandered back out to the cargo hold. Canderous wasn't there anymore. Her vague disappointment at his absence confused her. Her head spun; she stumbled to the starboard berth and collapsed into the nearest bunk.

* * *

><p><em>The gateway was a dirty black, covered by an iridescent oily sheen.<em>

_"Can you feel it? The dark side is strong in this place."_

Val tried to see who was speaking, but her dream body wouldn't obey her commands.

_A black-gloved hand, clutching at the air like a predator's talon, reached toward the door. Hesitated. Reached again._

"If we do this, we can never go back. They will surely banish us."

Who were _they_? Val wondered. What was going on? And what under the stars was her subconscious trying to tell her?

_The black-gloved talon reached out again. At a gesture, the door began opening, ancient locks sliding apart with a sound like a predatory hiss._

* * *

><p>"Valena? Please, Valena, wake up."<p>

Val jerked awake, her dream melting away. Something about a door…

Bastila knelt next to her, her hand laid softly on Val's arm. "What - are you okay?" Val asked.

"It's not me. It's - oh, how can I explain this so you'll believe me?"

Val waited.

"Please believe me when I say this has never happened to me before. And I never expected it to happen with… well, with s-someone like you."

She blinked. Was the Jedi _coming on_ to her?

"I've - had a dream. And I felt you there inside my dream, as if we were sharing the same experience. And… I don't know what to make of it."

Val stared at her. Bastila's delicate skin flushed, paled, and flushed again. Val considered what to say. _I'm flattered, but I'm not like that_? Or, _Doesn't your Jedi Code forbid things like this?_ She swallowed, licked her lips. "Uh. What was your dream about?"

"Well, there was a door…"

Val felt her own face go pale. Bastila recited it all, right down to the strange voice, and it all came back as fresh in Val's mind as if waking had never erased it.

"I don't know what to do," Bastila confessed.

She was really just a girl, Val realized. A - what did the Jedi call their students? - a padawan. Barely out of childhood. Pretty - almost devastatingly so. And as completely naïve as young Mission was street-wise.

"Well, I suppose we should talk to your Jedi Council, shouldn't we? Won't they know what to do?"

_Bone-dry old men making hidebound proclamations from their ivory tower_, a mocking voice said inside her. Val rubbed her face. She still wasn't completely awake.

Bastila looked down, hugging herself. "Yes, but - I'm afraid of what the Council will ask us to do…"

She was so small. Val sat up and pulled the girl into a careful embrace. Bastila resisted stiffly, then melted into desperate tears. A moment later, she threw herself back with a shuddering cry, and ran out of the room.

_What was_ that _all about?_

* * *

><p><em>Thwack!<em>

"No. Wrong. Again."

Val was about ready to turn to the dark side. What had ever possessed her to suggest that Bastila speak to the Jedi Council on Dantooine about their shared dream? Now she was in training to become a full Jedi, and it seemed that the Masters were rushing her through training as fast as they could.

Speed training was as grueling and painful as her vague memories told her speed healing had been.

She repositioned her clumsy, tired body and went through the kata again.

_Thwack!_

Master Vandar's walking stick slapped her right calf. "Leg - here. Foot - so. Try it again, Padawan."

She wiped the sweat out of her eyes, sighed quietly, and tried again.

* * *

><p>"Recite the next koan."<p>

"There is no passion, there is serenity."

"What does this say to you?"

"Well…" Val shrugged uncomfortably. Lessons with Master Zhar were as difficult in their own way as Vandar's exercises. "I don't know why passion and emotion are supposed to be wrong. I mean, plenty of people all over the galaxy are full of passion and emotion, and they live happy lives."

"But they are not Jedi, are they?" Master Zhar remarked.

"What difference does it make? Just because we have the Force, we're supposed to be emotionless automatons?"

Zhar smiled gently. "Of course not. The Force allows us to feel what others feel, which brings us the responsibility of compassion. True, some Masters might say that emotion leads to the dark side. But I do not think so."

"Why not?"

"It is not emotion itself which is dangerous. But emotional attachment can lead to trouble for someone gifted in any great power, such as the Force. A Jedi who loves greatly can twist the Force as surely as one who hates greatly. And there is also a purely practical side of this. Jedi should not marry, because Jedi have a duty to the Force."

Val frowned. "I don't understand."

"Tell me. If you were faced with a duty to negotiate a peace treaty, but your family was in danger on the other side of the galaxy, would you be able to do your duty?"

She thought about it. She didn't have a family, but she knew that if Carth or Mission or any of the others were in trouble, she'd likely risk anything to save them. They were the closest thing she had to anything like a family.

_Should I push them away, though? It seems so wrong, but - what Master Zhar says makes sense, too…_

She left the discussion feeling more confused than when she'd begun.

* * *

><p>"Now the book."<p>

Val concentrated. The volume balanced shakily in her Force grip, hovering between two chairs and a lamp.

"Now try to hold them all for as long as you can."

She closed her eyes, ignoring the itch of sweat running down her spine. This was the largest group of objects she'd been able to levitate yet, and she blocked the rush of pride that had foiled her on previous attempts.

Something tickled the back of her neck. The chairs fell, the lamp shattered. Val opened her eyes and looked around. Master Vrook stood behind her with a large pink feather. It would have been funny, if not for the disdainful look on his stern face.

"Idiot. You can't let anything distract you. At this rate, you'll never get past third-rank padawan."

He stalked out before she could answer.

"We keep telling the housekeeping droids to stop filling Master Vrook's underthings with nettles," Bastila said from the doorway. "But they never listen."

Val smiled. If it hadn't been for Bastila, she'd have gone Force-crazy and murdered Vrook ten times over. At least.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was instructed to bring you before the Council. They've decided it's time to put you to work."

"But Master Vrook said - "

"Vrook only called you an idiot. Trust me, that's high praise. When he's training me, he says he'd have more success teaching a half-dead gizka."

"Wow. But at least he says it with serenity rather than passion, right?"

Bastila laughed. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. You've progressed ten times faster than any other student I've ever seen. It's quite remarkable, really."

"I thought they were rushing me because they had to get me out fighting the Sith?"

The young Jedi looked at her curiously. "Well, yes, they do want you trained quickly, but - they've only been pushing you as fast as you could go. Don't underestimate yourself, my friend."


	4. All in a Day's Work

**A/N:** If you've come this far, a few notes. This story has been in progress for a long, long time; I've only started posting now, because the end is finally in sight. I'm a terribly slow writer, I'll say that right out. So even though I had much of the ending in mind when I started writing it, a lot of canon has been set since then - especially by the Old Republic MMO and the new Darth Revan book (which is an enjoyable read, btw!). I'm keeping the original ending I had in mind, though, so this will take a left turn at Alderaan somewhere along the line. By the time we get to the final planet, it will be thoroughly AU.

**Other Notes:** As always, any dialogue that seems familiar comes from the game. Also, I have no idea if Whyren's Reserve exists this far back, but what the heck.

* * *

><p><strong>IV. All in a Day's Work<strong>

SHOULD I CORRUPT THE DROID SECURITY TARGETING PROTOCOLS THIS TIME, TOO?

"No, Tee-Three, I don't think that would be a very good idea. Just shut them down."

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Val wondered for the fifth time that day. She thought back to her conversation several weeks before with Master Zhar, about passion and serenity. Jedi weren't allowed very many passions - if any - but for normal people, like the settlers on Dantooine, love was a good thing, something to be encouraged and worked for.

So now Val was playing a cross between rescuer and matchmaker.

T3's hoot told her he'd finished his slicing. Val opened the security room door, peeked out both ways, and crept down to the third door on the right, the one where the poor kid had been stuffed after his kidnapping. She concentrated; who needed lock picks when you had the Force?

No wonder the Council had foisted this off on her. They didn't want to deal with the feuding Sandrals and Matales, either. The whole thing was somewhere between a romantic comedy and a burglary.

The door hissed open.

"Psst! Shen! I'm here to get you out of here."

The young man looked startled, then intense. "A Jedi? No - no, I'm not going anywhere without Rahasia."

_Oh, good grief._

An hour later, Val and T3 were back. "Okay, here's the deal. Rahasia's agreed to meet you outside, then you two can make a run for it."

"My father's never going to forgive me for this."

They crept up the blessedly empty corridors again and found themselves outside under the bright Dantooine sun.

"Shen!"

"Rahasia!"

"Shen!"

"Father!"

"Mr. Matale!"

"Rahasia!"

"Father!"

"Mr. Sandral!"

"Nurik!"

"Ahlan!"

"...Oh, good grief."

"_Fweee! Dootlebip!_"

Val ignited her new lightsaber. Blue light danced off her robes. She still wasn't quite used to owning such a weapon - and if she was honest with herself, she'd admit that pulling it out now was just as much to show it off as to announce herself as a member of the Jedi Order.

"Mr. Sandral, Mr. Matale - look. I know your families have been feuding for however many years. And, sirs, you two can go on feuding for all I care, but your children seem to have other ideas about the whole thing. You might want to think about listening to them."

Matale looked abashed, but then glared at Sandral. "This isn't over."

"Of course not."

"But for now, you'll agree to leave each other in peace?"

Teeth ground on all sides. Ahlan Matale was the first to drop his eyes. He holstered his blaster, rounded up his two armed droids, and stomped away.

Nurik Sandral muttered something obscene under his breath as he watched the other man depart. He glared at his daughter and the boy beside her. Then he disappeared, still grumbling, back into his estate.

"Shen, I was so worried. I thought Father would - "

"Shhh. We can go wherever we want to now. Start our own family, start our own settlement. Whatever you want, we'll do it."

Another conquest for the light. Val thought she really ought to be disgusted by all the sweetness. "You two will be all right now?" she asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Jedi. We'll never forget what you've done for us." The two jumped into a speeder and disappeared into the hills.

_ - I trusted you! -_ She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the same old strange thought.

* * *

><p>"Carth, please just come with me on this one. I have a really bad feeling about it."<p>

Everyone else had unpacked into guest quarters in the Enclave. Mission was still towing Zaalbar around the place with stars in her eyes. It was good for her to experience a little of the Jedi serenity, after what had happened to the planet she'd grown up on. And it didn't hurt that every young padawan was now practicing their shiny new grief counseling skills on the girl. Having to be polite to a bunch of fledgling Jedi was obviously grating, but it helped Mission keep her sense of humor.

Bastila was at home here, of course. And Canderous was… well, he was Canderous.

But Carth Onasi, hero of the Republic, still slept in the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk_.

"Why? I've seen enough of your 'Force' to know that I don't want any of it, Val. Sure, we got Bastila off Taris and all, but as soon as we show up here they hustle you off to the Council and _poof!_ - next thing I know, you're a Jedi. What is going _on_ here? I'm being kept out of the loop, and I don't like it!"

_You're keeping yourself out the loop, Carth_, Val thought.

"I - honestly, I don't really know what's going on, either," she admitted. "The Council seems to think I have some great big destiny to fulfill, but they won't talk to me about _anything_ except training and whatever little missions they decide to send me off on."

"Hell. I guess I didn't think about what this has been like for you." Carth ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Val looked at him, listened to him in the Force. He was still holding back, holding back something big. "You still don't trust me."

"It's got nothing to do with you personally, all right? I swear, you are the most frustrating woman I've ever met, other than my wife!"

Val blinked. "I didn't know you were married."

"I'm not. Not anymore." His jaw worked, as though he were trying to fit his outburst back behind his own teeth, but he finally continued. "She died on Telos. It's part of why… Look, I know what happened to you in the Sith base was because you were an untrained Force sensitive. That's not what's wrong. Well, not all of it." He sighed again. "Come on. Let's go get a drink. I can't talk about this sober."

"I don't think the Jedi have a bar around here."

He laughed. "No, but the _Hawk_ has a galley, and that Kang fellow kept it well stocked."

They sat at a small fold-out table in the main hold. Val poured, Carth drank.

"Good stars," he coughed. "Well, not exactly Whyren's Reserve, but it'll do."

Val waited while Carth measured out and tossed back another shot.

"Okay. Back in the Mandalorian Wars, I served under a man named Saul Karath. He was my mentor. I looked up to him, I guess you could say I wanted to _be_ him. He was everything a good soldier - a good man - ought to be. And then Revan and Malak turned, and - well, a lot of people went with them."

Revan and Malak, Val knew, were the two Jedi who had won the Mandalorian Wars. The Jedi Council on Coruscant had recommended studying the problem while the Mandalorians took world after world, but two Jedi refused to follow the Council's wishes. They led the army that defeated the warrior race; but they disappeared for a while, and then reappeared at the head of an invasion fleet of Sith warships.

Revan had been slain by a Jedi squad including young Bastila Shan, but Malak was still out there, still throwing everything he had at the Republic. And he had a lot. It didn't matter how many of his battle fleets the Republic destroyed - if they cut off one head, two more would spring up in its place.

"Admiral Karath came to me just before he left. He said some funny stuff, like what if we were fighting on the wrong side. I thought it was just the war getting to him, but…"

He downed another shot of whiskey, and Val refilled it. "He and his entire ship defected over Telos. I was home downworld on leave at the time, didn't know anything about it until - well, until the bombing started."

"I didn't know you lived on Telos."

"Yeah. Well. I trusted Karath. But just like _that_ - " he snapped his fingers - "he turned. He had his men slice the planetary shield security, and the whole planet was left defenseless. My wife… died. I still don't know what happened to our son."

So that was it, Val thought. Everyone was a potential monster.

She thought about the way she'd killed the Sith governor on Taris, and shivered.

"Okay," Carth said.

"What?"

"Okay. I'll come with you."

* * *

><p>The wind whistled through the trees, showering her with bits of grit and old, dried leaves. <em>Go away!<em>

_I'm not going to go away until you come out and talk to me_, Val thought back. The Force wasn't exactly a comlink, but it could communicate roughly what she meant.

Images of fire, blood, and torn flesh came back to her.

"Wow," Val said. "That is one very angry sentient in there."

"We can take him," Carth responded.

Canderous simply adjusted the sights on his repeater, humming a war song under his breath.

It was like being a babysitter, Val decided, for very large and very dangerous children. She shot a look at Canderous; when he smiled at her, she found herself glancing away, flustered. _Okay, not so much children._ What _was_ it about the Mandalorian that set her teeth so much on edge?

"Okay. He won't come out, it looks like we'll have to go in."

The Council had described the situation as "a disturbance in the Force." Then again, Val thought, a Hutt breaking wind could be called a disturbance in the Force. For some reason, the Masters were completely silent on this mission, other than that a grove some distance away held a darkness that had to be dispelled.

_Throw it in the sanitizer with a bleaching agent_, she grumbled to herself. Stars, but as much as she'd been fascinated by her training, there was so much that she was discovering she disagreed with the Council on. Like this whole business of sending a barely-trained initiate off with only cursory instructions. Every other padawan at the Enclave was still learning the finer points of diplomatic dinners!

Was that her stomach growling, or...

Val had just enough time to duck under the feral kath hound that leapt out of nowhere at her. She ignited her lightsaber, but Carth and Canderous were already firing. In moments the animal was dead. Thankfully, their blasterfire hadn't set the whole woods ablaze.

"That beast shouldn't have attacked us," Canderous said.

"No," she replied. "Something - or someone - was goading it."

Keeping her lightsaber out and lit, she followed the only path through the thick trees. Standing stones from some ancient race peeked out between the foliage, giving the place an eerie feeling. The "disturbance in the Force" assailed her again, pummeling her mind with pure power this time instead of images.

She moaned and shook her head, dizzy.

"Val, are you okay?"

"Frag it. No, but I can't do anything about it. If I can't do this, then how am I supposed to be able to do anything else the Council wants?"

_Why obey the Council in the first place?_ the strange mind suddenly asked. _What have they ever done for you?_

"They taught me to control my power," Val answered aloud.

"What - " Canderous started to say, but Val waved him quiet.

_My anger controls the Force. I do what I wish, and I don't need anyone ordering me about!_

Val didn't have an answer for that at first. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sent out images of the Sith base on Taris. The feel of the vibrosword in her hands, the wet thwacks of metal on flesh, as she kept chopping, and chopping. Fear. Shame. Grief.

The mind withdrew in sudden shock, then returned, quieted. _That… is what I did. And that is why I can never return to the Jedi._

"But the Jedi accepted me, even after I killed him," she replied, while the other two looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head.

A wave of guilt staggered her. _But I slew my beloved Master. I can never go back._

"Val?" Carth's voice brought her back. She saw sky in front of her, and realized she'd fallen.

"Okay, that's it," Canderous said. "We're getting you out of here." He had a glint in his eyes that said _fear_, but Val wasn't sure she believed it. The man was a constant warrior, challenging everything he could see. But maybe that was it - he couldn't _see_ what was attacking her.

"No," she panted as she got back up again. "I'm not going anywhere." She smiled sweetly at him. "But _you_ can leave, if you like."

The Mandalorian's hands tightened on his blaster rifle so hard his knuckles cracked.

Val breathed deep and closed her eyes again. Something tickled the back of her mind, and she took a sudden chance. "Quattra? Was that your Master's name?"

Silence. The other mind pulled back, but Val followed it. "She's not dead. She left shortly after I arrived."

_LIAR!_

The mental scream was accompanied by a vocal one, and something dropped out of the trees onto her.

"Liar!" Claws raked at Val's face; she tried to bring up her lightsaber to defend herself, but suddenly another blade, red as the evening sun, parried and held it fast. "My Master is dead! I made sure of it before I fled! Do you think I would be out here, living as an animal, if I had any hope left?"

Val disengaged her blade and backed away from the young… woman? She wasn't human, that much was certain. Feline eyes stared out of a snarling face.

"_Wayii_," Canderous grunted, bringing the butt of his rifle down on the back of the creature's head. "_Shabla jetii._" The alien collapsed in a heap.

_Crazy Jedi indeed_, Val thought, and wondered how she'd understood the Mandalorian.

They bound the young woman with stun cuffs Canderous produced from a belt pouch, and Val fastened both lightsabers to her belt.

"Well, what now?" Carth asked. "Back to the Enclave?"

"No," Val said, thinking. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea. She seems to hate the Jedi, and I don't think their whole serenity thing would do much for her opinion of them right now." She hurriedly explained what had happened when she'd been standing around and, for all they knew, talking to herself. "For now, let's keep her in the _Hawk_'s medbay."

They laid her in the back seat of the speeder they'd borrowed from the Enclave, and Canderous dosed her with something retrieved from another pouch, no doubt to keep her under. Val shook her head and decided she didn't want to know everything the man was armed with.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, then dug in his kit till his hand came out with a small med-wipe. "Here. You'll want to clean those scratches." She snatched the flimsy package from him, unwrapping the damp cloth. "Might scar," he muttered.

"Right," she snarled back as the disinfectant stung her skin. "Wouldn't want to blemish my lovely skin."

His other eyebrow rose. "That's not - "

Val stuffed the cloth in her pocket, not caring whether the blood would stain. "Not what?"

"_Naas._" He turned away, ducking into the speeder. "_Haar'chak._" She stared after him.

Carth's head appeared from the driver's side. "You coming, Val?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." She was tired, they all were, and her mental shields weren't all there after the battering they'd just taken - and Canderous had been thinking _very_ loudly all of a sudden, and Val was positive that it was against the laws of nature for a Mandalorian to think that way about a Jedi.

* * *

><p>"I - I thank you for saving me from my darkness," the fallen Jedi, Juhani, said in heavily accented Basic. She was sitting quietly, unbound, on the bed in the medbay. She held a datapad in her hand that showed a recent holo of Quattra, her old Master. "She is alive. I cannot understand how this has happened, but…" She bowed her head, tears trickling down her lightly furred cheeks. "Perhaps she can forgive me, but I will never be able to forgive myself."<p>

Privately, Val thought otherwise, but she didn't say anything about it to Juhani. When Val had spoken to the Masters before coming back here with proof of Quattra's continued good health, they'd told her why Quattra had incited the violent duel, then tricked her padawan into believing her slain.

It was a test.

"Perhaps Juhani would feel better returning to the Enclave," Vandar had suggested.

"No, I still don't think that would be a good idea," Val replied. She had defied the Council's request, and it felt good. "She's still… on the edge."

_And I couldn't bear to return such a fragile person to more of your "tests,"_ she thought angrily.

"Very well," Vandar replied. "In that case, there is one more trial you must complete before you can truly take up the mantle of a Jedi Knight…"


	5. The Black Door

**A/N: **No idea if "prudiila chaab" is correct Mandalorian grammar, but I'm running with it.

* * *

><p><strong>V. The Black Door<strong>

Val sat in her bunk on the _Ebon Hawk_ and tried to meditate. The Council had sent her to a strange pile of ruins… and confusion had sent her back to the ship. She'd seen them before, she _knew_ she'd seen them before. But it had been months since she'd had that dream, the one she and Bastila had shared. She tried to recall what it had felt like, but it kept slipping away, like trying to hold water in a sieve.

The ruins had looked like a burial mound. There were a lot of standing stones in front of it, similar to the ones in Juhani's grove, but darker and less weathered. She knew that all kinds of ancient races across the galaxy had once created monuments much the same, expressing a near-universal desire to remember their ancestors, and to be remembered themselves.

She hadn't gone in. It terrified her.

"What's the matter with you?" Val jumped. Canderous stood in the berth hatchway, leaning on the edge of the door, arms crossed casually. "That Jedi girl sent me to talk to you. So talk."

_…Sent you to talk to me, so I'm the one supposed to talk._ Val decided not to sort that one out.

She tried to find the right words to describe it, and wound up gesturing helplessly.

"You're afraid."

"Yes."

"Of what?"

"...I don't know."

"Then why are you afraid of it?"

She gave a shaky chuckle. "It… it feels like, if I go in there, I'll find out something about myself that I really don't _want_ to know."

He walked in, sat on his heels in front of her. "We call that _prudiila chaab_. Shadow fear. Everyone's afraid of the unknown, at least a little. But it can be deadly - and worse, stupid - to let it control you."

Val thought about it. Looked at him.

Canderous stood up. "No."

She blinked. "What?"

"You're about to ask me to go with you. The answer is no. I'm not here to hold your hand." He turned around and left.

_Then why are you here?_

* * *

><p>Val tried to ignore the intense feeling of déjà vu. Bastila caught her eye, and nodded: she felt it, too.<p>

"Are you sure you can't open it, T3?" Val asked the little droid. He blatted negatively. "Well, how did - whoever it was in the dream - open it?"

"All I saw was that awful hand," Bastila said with a delicate shiver.

Val tried to make the same clawing gesture the hand had made. Nothing happened, except that she felt slightly silly. And frustrated. And angry. Why had the Council sent her out here in the first place, if she couldn't even open the damn door? Or was this just another one of their idiotic little tests?

The door moved just a little.

"What was that? Did you do something, Bastila?"

"No - I thought you did it?"

"I don't think I did. I was just… thinking."

"About what? Perhaps it responds to psychic suggestions."

"I was thinking about the Council."

"Think about them again."

Master Zhar, the gentle philosopher. He never made her feel childish or stupid, even though she still couldn't keep up with him in their discussions. Master Vandar, the diminutive grey-green Jedi with the outsized ears. He didn't look like much, but his Force presence far outshone his physical body. Master Dorak, a laconic man whom she barely knew. Master Vrook, with the sandpaper skin and the temperament to match. Talking to him was always guaranteed to turn a good day bad.

The door moved again.

"Okay. This is going to sound funny. I think I have to be angry."

"Well, if that were true, then any child in a bad mood could open the door!"

"Maybe a Force sensitive child could."

Bastila looked at her. For half a second, Val could have sworn that her Jedi companion was afraid of her…

"What?"

"No, it's nothing. Please try. Carefully."

She thought about Master Vrook again, his calling her an idiot, telling her she would never amount to anything. He always judged her harshly, no matter what she'd done. Even in the presence of other Jedi, even when they called him on it.

The door moved again, but it wasn't enough.

She let her anger deepen. And now this thing with Juhani. The Jedi were always going on about the "dark side," but it was their trials that had caused the poor thing to give in to her darker emotions.

She could see through the chinks in the door as it opened further.

The Jedi were cruel.

Wider now.

And it wasn't just the way in which they tested their padawans. It was the Jedi themselves who had let so many people suffer and die during the Mandalorian Wars, while they sat on their backsides and _meditated_.

Maybe Revan and Malak had been right to turn against the Jedi.

The door hissed wide to welcome them.

Bastila stared at her as if she'd seen a ghost. "I don't think I want to know what you were thinking about."

Val smiled, and couldn't keep a little bit of viciousness out of it. "No, probably not."

She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. But the senseless unfairness - the utter stupidity! - of having a teenaged girl going into this place with her... In another life, Bastila might have had more in common with little Mission than with Val. And the Masters thought young Bastila ought to just walk into a place that could very well have _created_ Revan and Malak?

"Bastila? You know you don't have to come with me. We don't know what's in there, and - "

"What! Valena, you are exactly right, we don't know what's in there - there could be terrible things, things you're not ready to face alone yet! I will _not_ let you set foot in there without me!"

- And this was Bastila Shan, and Bastila Shan always knew best. Of course.

"Okay, forget I mentioned it. Come on."

They stepped through. The darkness was a deep, oily black. It almost had a texture to it, as if she could reach out and claw her way through it.

The door shut behind them, and the darkness was complete. Her breath echoed in her ears, and she could feel the walls only a few inches away from her on either side. The bit of calm she'd achieved fled. Were the walls getting closer? Was the corridor getting smaller? Her breath quickened into a pant.

A hand touched her arm, and she couldn't hold back a shriek.

"Valena! It's me!"

"Sorry! Sorry, it's just… I think I'm a little claustrophobic. Doesn't help that I can't see anything, either."

Bastila lit her lightsaber. Its soft yellow glow touched the edges of the walls, but didn't extend far down the corridor.

"_Dwooo._"

"Good, Tee-Three, you got through before the door closed. Now how do we get out of here?"

"Perhaps we have to go in before we can get out."

"Right. Of course. This is a Jedi test, after all. Go in before you get out. Makes perfect sense. Yes, I know, I'm babbling."

Val looked down the dark hallway and swallowed hard. Shadow fear, Canderous had called it. He had no idea how right he was.

Bastila took her hand. "You can do it. I'll help you."

How many times had she thought Bastila a pompous Jedi princess? A lot, Val knew. She would never think that way about her again. Not when Val couldn't get over this childish fear of a dark, enclosed space.

They started walking, T3's small built-in light source adding its own meager beam to their lightsabers. The echoes of their footsteps sounded like malevolent whispers.

Soon they came to another doorway. It opened as they approached it. Either it didn't need any emotional input - or else Val's fear was what opened this gateway.

They stepped through, the door closed behind them again, and the lights came on.

"_Ktooditla shmariini itkla?_"

Val wiped her stinging eyes and stared at the mechanical - thing. It didn't look like any kind of droid she'd ever seen, scuttling on those horrible spider-like legs.

"_00 1 000 11 0?_"

"T3, can you figure out what it's saying?"

"_Twiddle-blat. Dwooo._"

"Great."

"_Uu vorhiffass? Uusto rrivas?_"

"Wait - I think I actually understood that!"

"You know what it's saying?"

"It wants to know who we are."

"Well, then, tell it!"

"Um. Let me think." She reached into her mind - how did she know this language? - and found the words.

_ [We were sent to investigate this place]_, she said. _[Who are you? Are you some sort of guardian?]_

_[I am the one who was put here by Those Who Came Before. I guard the sacred Star Map. Only those who are worthy may enter.]_

_[What is this 'Star Map'?]_

_[It was built by Those Who Came Before. It shows the way to the Infinite Empire to those who are worthy.]_

Bastila was staring at her open-mouthed. T3 looked from her back to the strange droid, clicking in electronic trepidation.

_[And what is the 'Infinite Empire'?]_ Val asked in the strange-familiar language.

_[The Infinite Empire is the final monument of Those Who Came Before. _ All inferior races bow to their power._ Warning: Do not approach the Star Forge.]_

A "Star Forge" - something about that was important, she sensed.

_[What does this Star Forge do?]_

_[It guards the Infinite Empire of Those Who Came Before. All inferior races bow to their power.]_

"Um. Okay," she sighed. _[How do we prove ourselves worthy?]_

_[Enter the chambers to the east and west. Break the seals. Deliver life, and deliver death. Then you will be worthy.]_

Val looked around. Sure enough, there were two doors, one on each side of the chamber, and a third directly opposite the one they'd come in by. The side doors hissed open.

"Well, I don't know what you told it, but I think we're finally getting somewhere," Bastila remarked.

"It said we had to deliver life and deliver death."

"Oh, my. What did it mean?"

"I don't know. And I don't think it'll be inclined to tell us." She had the distinct feeling that this had ceased to be the Jedi Council's test. Now it was the droid-guardian-thing's test, and she wasn't sure she wanted to participate.

T3 rolled toward the western door, tootling.

"Wait - Tee-Three, you don't know what's in there!" Val and Bastila followed the little droid, lightsabers ready.

"_Ktooditla shmariini itkla?_"

The door closed behind them. Another droid guardian faced them.

_Didn't we just do this before?_

Val took a breath and said, _[We are here to prove ourselves worthy.]_

_[What are the three death-giving climates: Desert-Volcanic-Forest-Glacier-Grassland-Ocean.]_

Val blinked. "What the - "

_['What the' is not correct. You are not worthy. Goodbye.]_ The droid opened fire.

Val and Bastila threw themselves down while T3 squealed angrily around the room. "Whoa, whoa! Stop!"

"What did you say to it?"

"I don't know, it wanted to know some question about death-giving climates!"

Bastila's lightsaber barely deflected a pair of bolts. "Then answer its question before it gives us our deaths!"

Val dodged again and shouted, _[Volcanic!]_

The droid stopped shooting. _[You may be worthy after all. Continue.]_

_[Desert.]_

It waited, blinking.

What was the third climate? She couldn't remember! Something cold? She took a stab.

_[Um, ice?]_

The droid opened fire again, and Bastila shrieked.

_[Ice world? Polar? Glacier?]_ she shouted.

The droid stopped shooting. _[You are worthy. You have delivered death.]_

The door behind them opened again.

Val helped Bastila to her feet. Neither was badly injured, though both had burns in their clothing and blisters from the ricochets. _Not very strong laser blasts_, Val realized. _Either these before-ones didn't have very good blaster technology, or they wanted unworthy people to die very slowly._

They crossed the central room again, shaky on their feet. The droid guardian watched them silently, its spindly legs clicking on the floor.

"Okay," Val said. "That was death-giving. This'll probably be life-giving."

"What were the other climates?" Bastila asked.

Val couldn't remember. She walked into the eastern room. The door shut behind them, just as before.

"_Ktooditla shmariini itkla?_"

_Here we go again._ _[We are here to prove ourselves worthy.]_

_[What are the three life-giving climates: Desert-Volcanic-Forest-Glacier-Grassland-Ocean.]_

_[Forest. Grassland. Ocean.]_

_[You have delivered life. You are worthy.]_

The door opened.

"Well," Bastila chirped. "That was…"

Val laughed, forgetting herself in her relief. "You were right, y'know. Deep, dark secrets in there. If you hadn't been there to protect me from the information out about those life-giving and death-giving climates, who knows what might have happened!"

"Valena?"

"Yes, oh wise one?"

"Shut up."

They returned to the central chamber to find that the northern door was open now. Inside was a strange-looking object, not a droid like the others, but obviously made by the same technology.

Three night-black blades unfolded like a malignant flower. A sphere rose up out of the center and began spinning, faster and faster, until it finally exploded into light.

Val blinked against the glare until it died down. Opening her eyes again, she found herself in a star field.

"Valena…?"

"Right here."

"What is this?"

"I think it's the Star Map thing the droid was talking about." As if on cue, four stars began blinking in sequence, then enlarged to show four planetary systems. One planet in each system's habitable zone enlarged, glowing. Strange glyphs spelled out alien information underneath each one.

It took Valena's breath away. What kind of species could have created such horrible droids, and then built this strange, wonderful, beautiful map?

Suddenly the planets disappeared, then the four stars, and then all of the stars went out.

"Wait - what happened? Tee-Three, did you get that?"

T3 beeped happily.

"Oh, good. Thanks. You did a good job."

"_Cheeble dweee!_"

"You did a good job, too, my friend."

Val returned the Jedi's smile. "Let's get out of here."


	6. Tatooine:  Secrets in the Sand

**VI. Tatooine: Secrets in the Sand**

Saul Karath took a deep breath, imagining that he was inhaling strength and courage with the recycled shipboard air. This was the sort of mental exercise Force users were supposed to do to give themselves confidence, wasn't it? Well, he couldn't say it was working very well for him. Lord Malak would see through him no matter what.

It was the price he had to pay for fighting on the side of strength and order.

"Yes, Admiral Karath?"

"My Lord, we have a visitor. Calo Nord, bounty hunter, formerly in the service of Davik Kang on Taris. He has offered his services to you."

"I see." Darth Malak turned to examine Nord. "And what payment do you expect for these… services?"

If he was afraid, Nord didn't show it. Karath admired his outward calm, but knew from past experience - too many past experiences - that Malak was actually peering into his mind, dredging up every little hate-filled, cowardly, black act in the bounty hunter's memory. Everything that had ever shamed or weakened him would be dancing behind his eyes this very moment.

"Whether and how much you choose to pay me is up to you," Nord stated emotionlessly. "I'd just like to level the field with a former… colleague. I'll kill your Jedi for you - as long as Canderous Ordo is in the line of fire as well."

* * *

><p>Hyperspace provided days and days of thinking time. Too many days, as far as Val was concerned. She sat near one of the small viewports and watched the shifting clouds and colors fly past.<p>

_Now we may tell you what you did not know before_, Master Zhar had said. _Revan and Malak visited those ruins years ago, before their fall, before they disobeyed the Council and went to war._

The black-gloved claw-hand: had that been Revan? Or Malak?

_What they found there led them to a place of great evil, we believe_, Master Dorak continued. _You must follow in their path. Find what they found. And destroy it._

And whose voice had been speaking? Did the voice and the hand belong to the same person?

Master Vandar had finished with: _You and Bastila share a remarkable bond. Together, you will lend each other strength in this quest. Where one fails, the other may succeed. When one falls, the other may help her stand again._

More Jedi nonsense. Val still found it hard to think of herself as one of those legendary guardians. She carried a lightsaber, she could use the Force; but she still couldn't help thinking of herself as a simple soldier.

It was easier that way. Having a destiny usually meant you were bound to die gloriously and be remembered for centuries. The glory and remembrance bit wouldn't be too bad, she just didn't fancy the whole dying part. She'd done it once before, and had only a few scattered memories from the experience.

_- I trusted you! -_

Her pale, dark-eyed reflection in the transparisteel viewport looked far too much like a skull.

* * *

><p>"Somebody do something about that damned Mandalorian," Carth muttered. It was their third hand of cards; Val had won the first, but he had blown her out on the second with a lucky pure pazaak. A moment later he won again when she drew a nine, putting her at twenty-three and bust.<p>

"Shame we're not playing sabacc," she quipped.

Canderous stomped through the main hold again.

Val threw her cards down and stood. "Canderous," she said.

"Yeah, what is it?"

She drew one of her vibroblades and tossed it at him. "Catch."

He plucked the pommel out of midair, grinning. "You're on."

Val followed him into the cargo hold and closed the hatch. She didn't feel like an audience this time, and since they had sparred every day since they'd left Dantooine, the others would have surely lost interest in the Mandalorian's exercises by now. Well, maybe except for Mission.

Canderous watched her with that damn smirk of his. She bristled. His suggestiveness was starting to get on her nerves. But then again, that's what the man wanted, wasn't it? Test her limits. Find out how far she would go before she broke.

Everything was a battle for him.

He secured the knife in one of the workbench drawers. "No blades today. Fist and foot."

"Okay…" But before she could say anything else, he was flying at her. She barely dodged a sledgehammer fist that would have turned her face into putty, backpedaling away from the booted foot that followed through.

Where Canderous was a hammer mill, Val was light on her feet, dodging away from every blow that came her way. She finally caught her breath, ducked inside a punch, and landed two strikes to his armored solar plexus before spinning out of the way again. _If he wasn't in the habit of constantly wearing his armor_, she thought, _those blows would probably have had him doubled over._

"Good," he grunted. And came at her again.

_Or maybe not._

She blocked a one-two-three punch, and elbowed him hard, kicking at his knee at the same time. He stepped back, catching himself before he could stumble, and nodded again.

Val was sweating. Canderous wasn't even breathing hard.

He circled around her, then deliberately dropped his guard, making little "come and get me" gestures with his fingers. What was he playing at? _Whatever_, she thought, and charged him.

Next thing she knew, she was flying through the air - _Vrook's right, I am an idiot_ - and landing hard against the bulkhead. She scrambled to her feet, but he was already there, pinning her against the cold wall, his face inches away from hers.

"Now how do you get out of this one?" he growled.

_Ha. Oldest trick in the book_, she thought. And kissed him.

He devoured her mouth, biting her lips, then her chin, and her neck. _Oh -_

Lips, tongue, and teeth battled each other for a taste of her skin, his hands running over her body. _I seem to have miscalculated..._ She threw her head back, moaning softly.

_If he weren't in the habit of constantly wearing his armor…_

He would have taken her completely, and she would have let him, gladly. She braced one hip against him and shoved, and then she had him pressed against the bulkhead. One leg wrapped around him, pulling him intimately closer. She wanted… she wanted…

She hooked one hand over the top of his breastplate and pulled. She wanted his mouth on hers, that was what she wanted. And his hands on her body. Those hands slipped under her tunic, rough skin brushing against her back, her ribs, her breasts. She pressed against him, but all she felt were hard surfaces. Damn his armor!

Someone banged on the closed hatchway. Their eyes met, then broke away.

"If you two are done trying to kill each other for the day," Mission called, "we're about to come out of hyperspace."

Val took a deep breath, stepped away from Canderous, and straightened her clothing. She yanked open the hatch and walked out toward the cockpit, still shaking.

Behind her in the chill air of the cargo hold, she heard a clang and an angry curse.

* * *

><p>Tatooine was far too hot for any kind of civilization, Val decided. Or maybe it was simply that she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. She had only kissed him in response to his challenge of getting away from him, she told herself over and over again, but it had turned into something else entirely.<p>

Val wiped her sweaty face again and ordered another drink.

_'There is no emotion, there is peace,' ha!_ She wondered if Zhar had ever been in this sort of situation, if any of the Masters had. _Vrook wouldn't know passion if it reared up and bit him in the -_

"Hey - Val. You okay?"

Carth slid into the space beside her, jostling a half-drunk Rodian, who glared at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get off the ship for a while."

"Cabin fever, huh?"

She nodded - _Some kind of fever, anyway_ - glad for the excuse he provided.

"We need you back on the _Hawk_. Mission's gone, and the Wookiee's about to tear the ship apart."

"What do mean, Mission's gone? Where'd she go?"

Carth made a helpless gesture. "Don't know. One minute she's hanging around outside the ship, the next no one's seen her, and they can't remember when she slipped off."

Val left a few credcoins on the counter and turned to leave, but the world started spinning suddenly, and Carth had to catch her.

"Whoa, how many of those have you had?"

"Uh. I didn't think I had that much, but I guess I was wrong."

One strong arm around her, he supported her as they walked back to the ship. She closed her eyes and breathed, and for the first time noticed that he smelled of spicy cloves. A nice smell.

"Valena, what happened to you?" Bastila asked suspiciously. She sounded like she meant more than the cantina.

"Don't worry," Carth passed it off. "Just one too many, is all."

"Drinking?" She shook her head. "You've already forgotten that you are a Jedi."

_Oh, great. As if I didn't get enough lectures on Jedi purity from Vrook and Zhar…_

She felt cool hands on her face, and suddenly the world stopped spinning. She opened her eyes and winced at the light. "Lovely. Instant hangover, is that it?"

"It's a technique for purifying your body of toxins. You should either learn it, or learn to stay away from... cantinas. You do know pain suppression techniques, don't you?"

Val closed her eyes and concentrated. The ache coiling behind her eyes loosened, and she took a deep, grateful breath. "Okay. So what's going on with Mission? Where's Zaalbar?"

A low roar answered her. She turned around to see the shaggy Wookiee bending low under the _Ebon Hawk_'s hatchway. He was worried, he said. Mission usually didn't go anywhere without him; and neither of them would go anywhere alone without letting the other know. It was a habit that had saved both their lives more than once in the lower levels and undercity of Taris.

Canderous and Juhani were gone, too.

Val felt a stab of concern for the exotically beautiful Cathar Jedi. If that Mandalorian had hurt her in any way - or if he tried the same thing as he had with Val in the cargo hold - she would kill him.

Bastila put one hand to her forehead and gasped as if she'd just felt Val's hangover for herself. "Valena, stop it!"

She stared at Bastila. The young Jedi was shaking and pale, looking for all the world as if she might storm Anchorhead's wall single-handedly.

Val took a deep breath and calmed herself. This bond thing was proving more trouble than it was worth - especially since she didn't know that it was actually worth anything. "Okay. Maybe we should split up. Zaalbar, I can understand you, so you team up with me. You guys okay with that?"

They agreed that Val and the Wookiee should check in the local shops while Carth and Bastila asked some questions in a few of the less savory places.

One of the mechanics hanging around the docking bay was only too happy to point Val towards the local Czerka warehouse; after a moment, she saw the Czerka logo pinned on his breast pocket. She nodded thanks, and she and Zaalbar headed into the dusty streets.

The heat was oppressive, reaching dessicated tendrils into everything to sap moisture away. Val found herself panting, then began to cough as the tissues of her mouth turned to paper. Zaalbar rumbled in concern, but the only thing her tall friend could do was block as much of the double sunlight from her as possible. She wondered how he could stand the heat in his thick fur; perhaps it kept the heat out as much as it might insulate him from colder weather.

Finally they found the Czerka warehouse, and entered.

"I'm sorry, but we don't allow animals inside," a well-groomed woman dressed in Czerka's yellow-and-black said by way of greeting.

"_What?_"

"Your Wookiee will have to wait outside. If you have complaints, please direct them to the Czerka representative kiosk on Coruscant, business hours only."

Val was shocked. Intellectually, she knew that despite the Republic's efforts, prejudice and even slavery were still constant problems, especially for people like the Wookiees. But to find that kind of attitude here, in a business that claimed to represent a civilized way of life on the fringes of Republic space, floored her.

"He's not an animal, he's not my property, and furthermore - "

Zaalbar cut her off with a plaintive moan. He was used to it, he said, and would rather wait outside where the air was cleaner.

Val pushed her fury down deep, and gave the woman as polite a smile as she could. "Listen, I'm looking for a friend of mine. She's a Twi'lek girl, blue skin, about yea height. You wouldn't happen to have seen her, would you?"

"I'm sorry, but Czerka Corporation does not take missing person reports. If you have any complaints, please direct them to our representative kiosk on Corus - "

Val closed her eyes and _pushed_. A flash of blue, a desperate plea, a name -

The woman gasped as blood began trickling from her nose. Shocked, Val immediately pulled back. _Oh, hell. What did I do to her?_

"I'm sorry," the woman said faintly. "I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit ill. You'll have to direct the rest of your questions to the Czerka representative kiosk on Coruscant, business hours only." She walked back to her desk, sat down, and fainted.

Val left hurriedly. She hoped the woman would be okay, but she refused to be held responsible for her attack - even if anyone could prove it. All the idiot had to do was simply answer the damn question, and Val wouldn't have had to…

Zaalbar met her outside expectantly.

"Mission was here a few hours ago. Does the name 'Griff' mean anything to you?"

He snarled. Griff was Mission's brother. He'd left Taris with an older Twi'lek woman several years ago, but Mission still adored him and missed him terribly, and if Zaalbar ever met Griff he'd tear his limbs off and beat him to death with them. Come to think of it, he said, on Dantooine he had seen Mission talking with an older Twi'lek woman who'd looked a lot like Griff's old flame. Mission's brother had a habit of leaving women poorer, but smarter. If she had been who Zaalbar thought, she might have given Mission information on how to find her brother.

They met back up with Carth and Bastila after a couple more hours of fruitless searching. Val explained about Mission having been by the Czerka warehouse, carefully leaving out her methods of inquiry. They told her that one of the local joy club bouncers had admitted seeing a young Twi'lek matching Mission's description, in the company of a Mandalorian man and an exotic alien woman.

"Well, that takes a load off my mind," said Carth. "Juhani's been around the block a few times, and as much as I hate to admit it, there's a lot worse people than Canderous that Mission could be hanging around with. They'll be all right."

The suns were beginning to set, bringing a cool breeze to the docking bay. "Okay," Val said. "I'm not really sure I want to stick around out here after dark anyway. Let's just turn in. I'm sure the others will be able to take care of themselves."

Zaalbar moaned softly but made no other complaints.

Mission was a smart kid, Val told herself. And with a Jedi - even a fallen one - and a Mandalorian warrior in her company, she was bound to be okay. She hoped Mission would find what she was looking for. Or at least some sort of closure.

* * *

><p><em>Eons of sand had covered it, eons more of wind had carved it out again. In the darkness, the rubble of ages past lay safely away from all the ravages of time.<em>

_With a hiss, a mechanical flower blossomed into a flash of…_

Val threw herself out of bed, yelling for Bastila. The other Jedi jerked awake out of her own bunk.

"Did you see it, Valena? Do you know what it means?"

"Stars, I was hoping you could tell me!"

"It looked like it was underneath something, or perhaps inside…"

"Not another burial mound? I really don't think I could handle any more of those horrible droid things."

"Why don't we worry about that later. Right now we still have to _find_ the thing."

Over a hurried breakfast, they explained to a puzzled Carth what they'd seen.

"You do realize how weird - and convenient - this all sounds, right? You guys sharing dreams that give you information, tell you where you need to go?"

"T-The Force has chosen us for something," Bastila blustered. "All we can do is try to follow where it leads."

"I still don't like it. But, well, I came along for the ride," Carth replied, "wherever the hell we're going."

* * *

><p>No one in Anchorhead could tell them anything about any kind of strange ruins, until they ducked into a hunting club for a bite to eat. The lodge owner stopped at their table to meet the potential new members, but when they asked him if he knew about any sort of ancient ruins, the Ithorian shrugged and walked away.<p>

A moment later, a Rodian stopped by their table, too, and garbled something to the effect that all hunters were nothing better than desecrators of the environment and murderers of innocent creatures.

"An Ithorian hunter and a Rodian environmentalist," Carth laughed. "Okay, now I've seen everything."

They paid the tab and began to leave, but a Twi'lek man stopped them near the door. "If you wish to know anything of value about Tatooine, you must ask the Jawas. They were here long before Anchorhead was constructed, and they will remain long after the planet's few cities are nothing but dust and sand." He bowed and said, "Good hunting to you, whatever it is that you hunt."

_Strange guy_, Val thought, unsettled, as they walked out.

The sand was blowing up, and people all over the streets were closing up shops, locking down shutters, and disappearing inside. Val and her friends made it back inside the _Ebon Hawk_ just as the wind came down with a furious shriek.

Bastila claimed a headache and disappeared into the starboard berth to rest and meditate. Zaalbar joined T3 to tinker in the engine room, while Val and Carth shuffled out the pazaak cards and began to play.

The sand hissed and purred over the hull of the ship, the susurration occasionally interspersed with the pop or clang of some small windblown object. Something like thunder sounded in the distance.

Val drew a three, thought worriedly about Mission, and hoped she and the others had been able to find shelter. Carth laid down a hand of twenty, and Val reshuffled.

"It sounded a lot like this when the Sith bombed Telos," Carth said. "Sort of quiet up close, but you could hear the ordinance and turbolaser fire falling from a distance."

Telos. They'd told her, the Jedi healers, that Telos was where she was from. She thought about escaping the orbital bombardment of Taris, wondered if she'd had any family - any friends in her old life - when Revan and Malak had hit Telos. At least Carth could still remember his wife and son. Even though they were gone.

"Do you think we should activate the _Hawk_'s shields? I don't want to get hit by something worse than a few pebbles."

Carth looked at her sharply. "Is this the Force talking, telling you something's going to happen?"

"No, I just thought…" She shrugged. Dealt the second hand. She had eleven starting out. She drew a four, then another four. Carth laid down another twenty, so Val used a plus-two from her side hand for a forced pazaak.

Carth began shuffling again, but then laid the deck down and walked out. A moment later, Val heard the low whine of the shields activating. The sound of the storm trailed off to a whisper. He came back in, finished the shuffle, and dealt. And a moment later, lost again. He tossed his cards on the table, got up, and left.

Val heard the cockpit door hiss closed. She stowed the deck and went to bed, hoping to sleep through the rest of the storm, and Carth's troubled mood.

* * *

><p>Carth's hand shook her awake some hours later.<p>

"Val? We have… visitors."

Sensing his anxiety, she followed him down the _Hawk_'s ramp to find a trio of small, brown-robed Jawas waiting. Their lantern eyes blinked up at her, and she had the strangest feeling of being sized up like livestock. The three Jawas spread out around her, enclosing her loosely at the base of the ramp.

_[We of world hear that you of not-world desire secrets]_, one of them chirped.

"Secrets?" she asked, confused.

_[You seek lost time in sands]_, another one added.

_[We who sands forget remember times beyond time and places that remain]_, the third one remarked.

_Ancient ruins?_ "We're looking for something called a Star Map," she said, and described what she and Bastila had seen on Dantooine. "Do you know if anything like that exists here?"

_[We see. We remember. We show way, for price.]_

The hope that this was about to get a lot easier dwindled. She doubted the Jawas' "price" referred to credits. "Okay, what do you want us to do?"

_[We of world are captured. You of not-world must release us.]_

She blinked, utterly confused. "Uh, you don't look like you've been captured…"

_[Not us that stand here, another us. People of sand capture us, enslave us, kill us. You must release us that people of sand capture.]_

"People of sand. The Sand People? Tusken Raiders?"

_[Those are names you of not-world give them, yes.]_

"Okay. Where are the Sand People who have captured your friends? Do they have a camp nearby?"

_[Travel west until suns set twice. You see where people of sand make their dwelling.]_


	7. Family Ties

**A/N:** Thanks for the lovely comments! They mean an awful lot to me!

* * *

><p><strong>VII. Family Ties<strong>

Heat shimmer turned everything past a few meters away into a wash of black and tan. On the horizon, black flags flapped and black wings rose and fell. Closer on, a brownish shiver wobbled and grew.

Val and Bastila had come to scout out the Tusken camp and, if they could, try to free the Jawas. Carth and Zaalbar, trusting the two Jedi to come out on top of any fight, had decided to stay with the ship in case Mission and the others returned - or in case any sort of trouble in the troubled settlers' town decided the _Hawk_ looked like fresh meat.

Val urged her eopie to a reluctant trot; a few paces later, it fell back into its usual lazy amble. The brownish wobble was a bit closer; she could tell it was probably humanoid, but the way it kept shimmering from long and thin to short and squat diluted any recognizable features.

Behind her, Bastila's beast and the extra pack animal hacked and brayed. They needed water, but that would mean dismounting and retrieving the heavy water bags from their eopies' saddlebags. She ground her teeth and yanked on her eopie's reigns until it stopped with a grateful whuffle.

Dressed in a long, protective poncho, Bastila also dismounted and began the difficult process of watering the beasts. Eopies were made for the desert, but compared to Tatooine most other deserts were a paradise. At least with their long, prehensile snouts, eopies could drink directly from a bag, rather than needing extra pails or buckets.

But once they'd brought out the water and offered it to the eopies, they stamped and moaned and wouldn't drink.

"Can you feel it?" Bastila asked. "The beasts are nervous. Whoever or whatever is approaching, they don't like it."

Val stretched out, trying to sense something from the oncoming figure; but all she got was a vague sense of threat. "I think I agree with the eopies," she remarked.

They waited in tense silence as the wavering blob drew closer. Eventually, it resolved into a droid.

"Greetings: I am Aitch-kay Forty-seven. You are the meatbags designated Bastila Shan and Valena Retee. My facilities are at your disposal. Qualification: I would especially appreciate it if you were to take advantage of my skills at aggressive negotiations."

Val blinked. Where had this thing come from, and how did it know who they were? "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

"Disclosure: I was purchased by one Canderous Ordo, accompanied by Mission Vao and Jedi Juhani, in order to facilitate communications with the tribe of Tusken Raiders holding Mistress Vao's brother prisoner. Addendum: Upon completion of this task, I was ordered to find you and reunite you with the rest of your team. Imperative: You will now accompany me to the remnants of the Tusken camp."

"What do you mean 'remnants'?" Bastila said.

"Explanation: The whole purpose of facilitating communications is so that violence may progress more seamlessly."

Val's eyebrows rose. _I'll bet this thing gets along great with Canderous_, she thought. "Are they okay?"

"Answer: Three of the meatbags are in passable health. A fourth, an adult male Twi'lek, is injured and may lose system integrity shortly without proper medical care. The remaining meatbags, namely the Tusken Raiders and other assorted life forms, have all been rendered inoperative. Permanently."

They tied the water bags onto their saddles again and rode off, leaving the droid to make its own way back, or not, as it chose. Val wasn't sure she'd mind all that much if it disappeared - permanently - into the desert.

* * *

><p>What had looked like giant flapping wings eventually turned into the rags of tents. Bodies lay piled here and there, most of them the corpses of Sand People. But some were the pitifully small remains of Jawas. Val wondered if any of them had escaped to return to their friends, or if all of them had been slaughtered. If they were all dead, it might make getting help from the Anchorhead Jawas more difficult.<p>

Maybe she could give the scavenging creatures HK-47 instead.

Near the center of the tent city, she found Mission, sitting next to her brother, crying quietly. His eyes were closed, his face a pale grayish blue; there was a nasty cut on his forehead, but she could sense a stubborn spark of life hanging on within him.

Bastila rushed over and began treating him with a standard medpac and an injection of kolto. Soon his color was better, the gash on his head healing fast.

Canderous and Juhani showed up, each carrying an armful of weapons they'd scavenged from the Sand Peoples' stores. She nodded in greeting, grateful to see both of them whole and unharmed, but suppressed a superstitious shiver at the idea of stealing from the dead.

No doubt the moisture farmers around here would feel differently.

"We should move out as soon as possible," Canderous stated flatly. "The droid says that this was only part of the tribe. The outliers will be regrouping here once night falls." Juhani began silently bagging her armload of gaffi sticks, not concealing her distaste for working with the Mandalorian.

"Bastila, is he ready to move yet?"

The young Jedi shaded her eyes and looked around. "There - let's use that travois to transport him. He's still out, and I don't know how long it will take him to regain consciousness."

They roped the Tusken-made pallet behind one of the eopies. The hardy desert animals, though they could easily bear the weight of two each and then some, still honked in protest as riders doubled up on them. Mission's group had ridden a trio of used speeder bikes out to the camp, but after the abuse of wind and sand, not to mention the battering of the ensuing fight, it was safe to say those speeder bikes would never move again. Used ones were cheap in Anchorhead, though, and they could easily obtain replacements.

Bastila rode the eopie dragging Mission's brother, but Val doubled up with Juhani, and Canderous with Mission. The Mandalorian seemed oddly protective of the young Twi'lek, who just as oddly had barely uttered a word since their reunion. Mission cast one troubled glance back at her unconscious brother, then hooked her arms around Canderous' waist and, leaning against his back, seemed to fall into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>"All of a sudden," Mission said in a low voice as the suns began to set, "I'm remembering all sorts of things about Griff that I'd forgotten before. Like what a lowlife he was. I guess I was too little to realize it before he left. I mean, he did all right by me for the most part - he's the one who taught me to slice computer systems and count pazaak cards and stuff - but then a lot of times he'd throw these wild parties and have all kinds of… friends… over." She brightened for a moment. "They would bring me credcoins and candy and stuff. But then - some of them really weren't very nice." She hugged herself while Canderous' expression thundered silently. "So what if all this time my brother was really just a galactic jerk?" she finished miserably.<p>

Bastila, one eopie over, gave her a sympathetic squeeze on her shoulder. "Our families are never who we remember them to be," she said, surprising Val.

"You had a family?" she asked. "I mean, of course you did - but you remember your family? I thought the Jedi only took very young children?"

"They took you, did they not?" Bastila responded. "While it's true that the Order is accepting children younger and younger, I was nearly ten when I left my home. I don't have very many fond memories of my family."

"What were they like?" Mission asked.

"I was very close to my father," Bastila explained. "But my mother and I were constantly arguing. My father was a treasure hunter. He loved adventuring, but sometimes my mother forced him to go on more dangerous expeditions just so she could have more money. Or that was what I thought.

"A few years ago, I found out that my father had died…" She trailed off for a moment. "My mother visited me on Dantooine - a rare occurrence for a Jedi, and not one encouraged. Family attachments can be fraught with dangerous emotions. My mother told me that my father had died on his last expedition, and that she herself was terminally ill. We argued. I…" She shook her head and fell silent again.

"I have all these memories of my childhood that are, in a way, false. It's as if the life I had lived, the people I had loved - it was all a lie. Now I know that my mother worried terribly about my father and me, especially when he would take me along on some of his 'adventures'. She admitted that she was the one who contacted the Order about me. She didn't want me hurt, and she was afraid my father would wind up in trouble, and me with him. The expedition that he died on, he was trying to make enough money for her to travel to Coruscant to see a doctor there. She'd been sick for years, but I hadn't known about it." She shook her head. "I gave her the money. I don't know if that was the only reason why she had come to see me, or if she actually missed me. But I paid her way. After that, I never spoke to her again. I don't know if she received the treatment she needed. I don't know whether she's still alive, and I've decided that I don't want to know."

"That's horrible," Mission said quietly. "Why wouldn't you want to know if she was still alive?"

"That was a very emotional time for me," Bastila admitted. "I came very close to the dark side then. I don't wish to skirt so near the edge again."

Behind Val, Juhani muttered something unintelligible. Val didn't ask her to repeat it, but she got the feeling that Juhani was worried.

"Do you have a family, Val?" Mission asked suddenly.

Val felt like her stomach had flipped over. "I don't know. I was sick a while ago, and I barely survived. I don't remember anything before that."

Canderous snorted. "What, you mean those scars you've got? I heard Onasi going on about some kind of blood fever that you had. Let me tell you - I've seen more diseases than you could name, and I've _also_ seen plenty of frag injuries. Someone lied to you, Val. I'd want to know who it was, and why."

There was a stunned silence. Bastila shifted on her eopie, prompting a bubbling complaint.

"So… what about you, Canderous?" Mission asked awkwardly.

"My _aliit_ are who I choose them to be," he replied curtly. "Family is what you make of it."

* * *

><p>The droid had made it safely back to Anchorhead, and was busy making a nuisance of himself aboard the <em>Ebon Hawk<em> when Val and the others returned. Carth and Zaalbar had been at each others' throats about whether or not to mount a search party for Val and Bastila, and T3 didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about HK's presence.

Val sighed and set about repairing frayed tempers. Everyone was back with no limbs missing, so there was no need for a rescue anymore; and HK would please stop calling T3 an inferior piece of workmanship, or they would give him to the Jawas as a present.

Then Mission ran into the main hold, furious. "Griff's gone!"

"What?" Bastila exclaimed. "Is he not safe in the medbay? Has something happened to him?"

"Oh, something'll happen to him, all right, if I ever see him again!" She held up a scrap of foil wrapping. "This is all that's left of our food stores," she said. "That good-for-nothing _di'kut_ bugged out, and took all our rations with him!"

_She's been hanging around Canderous too long_, Val thought, _if she's picking up Mandalorian obscenities._

Val sat down and rested her head on the palms of her hands in frustration. They'd gained a temperamental assassin droid, rescued a thankless swindler, and lost all their food stores - and they hadn't even found the second Star Map yet.

As if on cue, the Jawas showed up outside the ship. Val walked down the ramp, accompanied by Juhani and Canderous. She was dreading what she would have to tell them.

_[We of world know that you of not-world rescue other not-world, but not other us]_, one chittered.

_[We know you get no good from rescuing other not-world]_, the second added.

_[We ask you for favor, you not do, sands bring justice to all]_, the third pronounced with satisfaction.

Val repeated all this to her companions. Juhani stepped forward, white with rage. "Your friends fought beside us!" she cried. "If it weren't for us, they may still be alive, yes, but they would still be slaves. They may have died, but they died free!"

The trio of Jawas seemed taken aback. They huddled and whispered together for a moment. Then one stepped forward and pressed a data chip into Val's hand. _[You speak truth we hear now. We honor our agreement.]_ And with that, they were gone.

"Their friends died like the vermin they were," Canderous stated, and stalked back inside the _Hawk_. Juhani shook her head in disgust, then reluctantly followed him.

* * *

><p>Komad Fortuna ignored humans on his good days, and despised them on his bad ones. They were obsessed with material wealth, thought nothing of the oppression of others to gain it, and every single one he'd met had been either brave to the point of stupidity - or simply stupid.<p>

It had not escaped him that his own species was not much better. But at least they were Twi'leks.

"I'm getting tired of all this waiting, Komad," his temporary - and far too human - partner spat. "How big can this 'dragon' of yours really be?" He primed his heavy repeater and swaggered into the caverns. A moment later, Komad heard a scream and a crunch.

_Dragon, three; Komad, zero_, he thought sardonically. _Why can't I find a single intelligent partner for this godsforsaken hunt?_

An hour of fruitless waiting later, the sands answered his need.

Three beat-up speeder bikes approached the caverns, coughing up grit as their repulsor engines chuffed. Three humans - _Looks like the dragon will eat well today_ - dismounted and approached him. One, a scarred but moderately appealing female (unfortunately, humans had hair on their heads instead of graceful and sensual lekku), introduced herself as Valena something-or-other, with a Bastila and a Canderous as her companions.

"We're looking for something called a 'Star Map'," Valena stated, and then Komad realized that he had seen her before, in the Anchorhead hunting lodge. "The Jawas recommended that we check out a sandstone cave in this area."

She had taken his advice about the Jawas, then. Perhaps she was more intelligent than the average human.

"You have come at a most auspicious time," he said with a smile. "There is a krayt dragon inhabiting these caverns. Normally, dragons live far outside the boundaries of civilization, but this one has been drawn too close to the settlement, and Czerka hired me to kill it."

He outlined his difficulty quickly, explaining that krayt dragons normally only came out every few months to hunt and eat, but that the domesticated bantha herds nearby must have tempted this one too often. Perhaps the Tuskens, who considered banthas sacred, would have gone on a ritual hunt, but they were preoccupied with making life difficult for the Anchorhead settlers. So the job was down to him, and this dragon was proving to be crafty.

"I have only seen him at night, and only when I am far away from the cave, but he is a great dragon, indeed. Much larger than bull dragons normally grow. I regret having to kill such a magnificent beast, but sacrifices must sometimes be made."

The male human's eyes seemed to light when he called the dragon magnificent. He was either yet another wealth-crazed human, or else a hunter after his own heart. Unfortunately, Komad had never been able to tell the difference with humans.

"Well, it seems we must aid you, then," the other female said. Komad noticed then that both females had lightsabers clipped to their belts. He wondered whether they were Jedi or Sith, but it was a moot question; their orders' differences were far too esoteric for him.

"Today my erstwhile partner and I laid mines in front of the cavern." The three humans' eyes grew wide in what he had learned to interpret as fear, so he reassured them. "Do not worry: the weight of all four of us together could not set off even one of these mines. They are set for the much larger mass of the dragon. If you would help me, here is what I would have you do…"

Another hour later, they were back, having half lured, half herded several free-roaming banthas near the entrance to the cave. Banthas had a notorious soft spot for bipedal humanoids, making them easily domesticated, but entirely too stupid. Their musky, ruminant scent settled around the hunters, but it was early evening before the dragon within stirred to life, tempted by the prospect of yet another easy meal.

"Get back!" Komad warned in a low voice. "He's a big one!"

The sand groaned, individual grains at Komad's feet vibrating as the great beast lumbered out. The banthas, only now realizing their predicament, lowed in sudden terror and shambled away. But the dragon, for all its enormous size, was quicker, and cut one nearly in half with a single, brutal bite.

Then it stepped into the minefield.

One or two of the lethal devices wouldn't have killed the bull dragon; but the first explosion knocked it onto its side, where it rolled into several more traps. Scales, muscles, and bones fragmented, and the air was filled with the reek of burning bantha hide and dragon flesh. And still the thing lived.

Roaring and writhing in pain and fury, it set off nearly all the mines in terrible succession. But even that was not enough to end the great beast's suffering. Finally, when it lay like a broken, burning mountain, Komad approached. One eye as large as Komad's head watched him. He climbed atop the heaving ribcage, then up across the shoulder, to look this most worthy of prey in the eye. Then he bowed.

"Forgive me for using such barbaric methods, brother-of-the-sands. I will honor your memory all of my days." Unslinging his heavy repeater, he fired into the great eye until all that was left was a blackened crater. And finally, the great beast lay still.

He leapt, heavy in heart, back down to the ground, motioning the three humans to approach. They did, cautiously. The male laid his hand on Komad's shoulder and offered a sober nod. Komad returned it, feeling for the first time in a long while that he had met another true hunter.

"Now we must show respect for the beast," he instructed, and handed each of them one of his ritual bone knives. "Cut in where I tell you to, and extract the dragon's treasure."

The male human approached the task with obvious skill, but the females were a bit slower about it. When they finally reached the dragon's crop, the younger female cried out in horror as a hand dropped out with a wet squelch.

"Ah. Yes. That would be part of my esteemed former partner," Komad said ruefully. Then he reached all the way in, felt around, and came out with not one or two, but _four_ large pearls. He looked at the dragon sadly and whispered, "You knew, my friend, did you not? And so you prepared your gifts for four instead of only two."

He cleaned the large pearls in the sand, whispering a prayer he had learned from his father, then distributed them among the three humans and himself. "Do not sell these," he cautioned, "but keep them always among your most prized possessions, and the spirit of the krayt dragon will protect you. For if you exchange such pearls for money, the spirit of the dragon will exact a terrible revenge."

Perhaps that was why his three previous partners had come to such a messy end. The dragon knew they weren't worthy, and only sought its pearls as wealth, rather than as true treasure.

The three humans were silent for a long moment, exchanging what seemed to be grim and troubled looks. Then the older woman thanked him solemnly. "I have a feeling, before this is all over, we'll need all the help the dragon's spirit can give us."

They disappeared for a short while into the sandstone caverns, and came back looking tired, but determined. When he offered to share his camp and food with them, they took him up on it with exhausted gratitude.

Komad slept in his camp for one last night, singing prayers to the great beast he had killed. In the morning, he returned to Anchorhead with a strangely light heart, leaving the humans to journey where they would. Perhaps, he decided, not all humans were ignorant fools obsessed with material wealth. Perhaps somewhere, far from the grips of Czerka Corporation, there were human beings who actually valued life for what it was, rather than for what it was worth.

Perhaps the galaxy would someday be a better place because of them.

* * *

><p>It took half an hour to scrub the sand out of the speeder bike intakes. By that time, the Twi'lek hunter was already gone, kindly leaving them one of his extra water rations. He was a strange man, but Val didn't think she'd forget him any time soon.<p>

They were halfway back to Anchorage when Val's bike flipped over, bucking her off and sending her flying headfirst into the sand. She blacked out for a moment, and came to wondering why something so soft under her feet would be so hard to land on.

Then she realized that all her senses were going off.

Bursting out from beneath holo-camouflage nets, three armed speeders circled around their small group, firing on the damaged bikes and rendering them useless piles of scrap. Val hauled herself out of the sand and grabbed her lightsaber. Bastila, of course, already had hers out and ignited, its furious yellow blade deflecting everything that came her way.

The bounty hunters' first mistake was getting out to fight them on foot. Their second, Val thought with a grin, was choosing to fight a Mandalorian armed with two Jedi.

Canderous charged the line of Rodians approaching them. Val couldn't tell whether the roaring sound was Canderous himself, or his repeater. One bounty hunter was down in moments, but the others were wearing personal shields that absorbed and deflected blaster bolts.

Shaking the sand from her mind, Val focused on one of the Rodians. The alien flew out, limbs flailing and blaster pistol circling off into nowhere, as Val's Force push slammed into him. He fell limp to the ground and didn't get back up again.

Lightsaber humming a battle cry of its own, Bastila efficiently dispatched the third Rodian.

"Well," she chirped. "That was an interesting diversion. What now?"

Something hiss-thrummed, and a fourth figure melted out of a stealth field on the other side of one of the speeders. "Now, you die."

Val heard a click under the sand at her feet and, remembering the mines that had killed the krayt dragon the day before, hurled herself to one side.

Not fast enough. She had just enough presence of mind to throw up a Force shield around herself before a ball of energy exploded around her. If she screamed, she couldn't hear it, but her throat felt raw and bloody before it was all over.

She opened eyes that felt dry and roasted. She tried licking her lips, but all she could taste was blood. Her skin was so raw she thought she could feel every single grain of sand from here to Anchorhead. Dimly, she could sense that Bastila and Canderous were still alive, as battered and sand-burned as she was. She felt around for her lightsaber, but couldn't find it.

Val saw two suns, tried to focus, and then remembered that there were supposed to be two of them.

Someone started whistling.

Bastila and Canderous were somewhere behind her and to the right, but she could hear boots crunching in the sand coming from her left. Then a head appeared in front of the sky. The whistling stopped on a sour note. A white keffiyeh topped a face that looked like something had flattened it when its owner had been very young. Black goggles hid the eyes, but Val could feel the man looking at her. The boots crunched again, and the head disappeared.

Val heard Canderous coughing; then he said, "It doesn't matter if you kill me now, Calo. You're still only second best."

"Maybe. But I'll be alive and you won't. Second best to a dead man sounds fine to me."

Val heard the zing of a single blaster bolt, and she closed her eyes. _Canderous_. She wasn't surprised that someone had finally died on this screwed-up mission - she just hadn't expected it to be the Mandalorian. The man had been to hell and back, and she couldn't imagine him dying like this.

"Someone get this _shabla di'kut_ off me," Canderous growled.

Val rolled over, groaning. Something hard pressed on her side. She reached for it, and found her lightsaber. She started laughing, even though her crusty lower lip split as she did, and crawled towards the other two.

Bastila was also stirring, and Val felt a wave of coolness sweep through her as the young Jedi used the Force to buffer their strength and ease the pain. Arms, legs, and lungs heaving, Val towed the dead weight of their attacker off of Canderous.

The Mandalorian was holding a delicate-looking blaster pistol. With a twist of his arm, the tiny pistol disappeared back underneath his gauntlet. "Little _hut'uun_ always did think bigger meant better."

Val helped Bastila to her feet and gave her an impulsive hug. The younger Jedi smiled at her, then helped her drag Canderous up out of the sand. He staggered for a moment, but Val drew on the Force to steady them both. Bastila trudged over to the nearest speeder and started it, while Val and Canderous held each other up.

"After this," Val panted, "we throw a party. Hey, how do Mandalorians celebrate?"

"Ask nicely," Canderous said with a toothy grin, "and maybe I'll show you some time."


	8. Kashyyyk:  Predator and Prey

**VIII. Kashyyyk: Predator and Prey**

_Trees strode across the millennia like giants. First there was sunlight on green leaves; then miles of branches, tangling and weaving, each tree helping to hold up its neighbors; below were still more miles of roughened trunks, some so think in diameter that it might take a week to circumnavigate a single one._

_There must have been hard earth somewhere in the depths - but no one in living memory had seen it. The deeper one climbed, the more dangerous the predators. Even the plants hunted you._

_Far below even the most diluted shaft of sunlight, where honeycombed fungus shed a dim glow in hopes that an animal might be attracted to the light - caught and then digested - black machinery stirred. A cold, patient intelligence waited. Had waited for uncounted ages._

_Something else waited, too._

* * *

><p>"My lord? Calo Nord has failed. He is dead."<p>

Taris had been a joy to behold, once. Back when he and his friends had gone adventuring, righting wrongs left and right - young Jedi determined to save the galaxy from itself.

Perhaps they had saved a few lives on Taris, in that long-ago time, that former life. But as soon as they had left, the Tarisians had simply gone back to their old ways, the rich feeding on the misfortune of the poor. It was the way of the galaxy, that the weak must serve the strong. It was the way of the Force.

Tatooine, now - the planet itself might as well have been a crucible of the Force. Life and death, strength and weakness, cruelty and compassion all played out their inevitable battle here. And death, strength, and cruelty always won. It was fitting that a desert planet should embody the stark, fiery truths of the Force, sloughing off and burning away all that were unfit.

Calo Nord, Malak concluded, had been unfit. The planet had claimed him, as it eventually claimed everything else.

"The price of failure is death," Malak said, turning to face Admiral Karath. "Calo Nord has paid that price."

"Shall I hire another bounty hunter, Lord Malak?"

"No. Bastila is too strong for a mere bounty hunter. Contact my apprentice. Darth Bandon has been too long without a proper challenge, and he grows impatient."

* * *

><p>Zaalbar's roars of fury were still pounding in Val's head well after Mission had calmed him down.<p>

He had never wanted to come back to this place, he said. He'd been banished, and rightly so; he'd brought enough shame to his clan, and returning would only bring more. Exile and loneliness were the only family he would ever have.

During his explanation Mission stood watching her Wookiee friend as if she'd never seen him before.

"But Big Z, I'm your family! I don't care what you did before you met me, all I know is that you look out for me, and I look out for you!"

Zaalbar glanced away from her. Living with her, he said quietly, had given him peace. With the illusion of belonging somewhere, he could have the strength to live with his shame.

Mission's jaw dropped. "I'm glad to know what you really think about me. I've stuck with you for five years, and now you tell me I'm an illusion? Well, watch this _illusion_ disappear!" She stormed out of the main hold, and the starboard berth hatchway clanged shut.

From the cockpit corridor, Carth scuffed a toe, looking questioningly at Val. She explained what Zaalbar had said.

"Hey, I'm sure the kid didn't mean that, big guy. I'll - I'll go talk to her if you want me to."

Zaalbar shrugged. He'd known for a long time that Mission wouldn't stay with him once she knew of his shame. This was no more than what he deserved, he said through Val.

Carth's eyes hardened. "Well, if that's what you want to think about yourself, don't let me stop you. But I'm pretty sure your friend Mission would have something different to say about it." He stalked down the starboard passageway; Val heard his hollow knock on the hatch. He didn't come back immediately, so Val decided to give him time to talk to the girl.

"How about this," she offered. "You stay on the ship. No one has to know you're even here, if you don't want them to. We'll try to find the Star Map as quickly as possible, and then we'll leave as soon as we can."

He hesitated, then nodded miserably.

Halfway down the boarding ramp, Bastila stopped Val with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Something is wrong here, terribly wrong. There is some evil twisting this planet, possibly twisting all that lives here as well. We must be cautious."

Val swallowed a lump of cold trepidation and agreed.

* * *

><p>There was something here, a wonderful and terrible beauty. He wanted to go to it, was drawn to it, hungered for it as it hungered for him. If he'd been free to take this world, he would have. Someday there would be nothing left between the galaxy and his domination.<p>

But his Master's word was law, at least until Darth Bandon had gained enough strength and power to break his chains and become Master himself. So he slipped unnoticed through the walkways of Rwookrrorro, the Force wiping away all memory of his presence. The Wookiee who lowered him down in the rope-and-pulley lift forgot about him as soon as it had reached the upper village again.

Even the beasts of the lower jungles ignored him, though he allowed the darkness of his passing to stir them up. Their bloodlust would set them after anyone else who wandered this way, weakening his enemies, making them ripe for his own blood-red blade.

They would come, eventually. That fool Jedi Bastila would take one look at the cruelty of Czerka, and decide on a quest to Make Things Right. But the cruelty of Czerka, the savagery of the Wookiees themselves, even the coldness of the uncaring trees had their roots in the thing that had slept here for uncounted ages. Beautiful.

He settled in to meditate and wait, cloaking his presence in the greater disturbance somewhere in the wild.

To wipe out the darkness of Kashyyyk, Bastila would have to descend into the heart of that darkness. And so it was here, in the comforting darkness, that Darth Bandon waited.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to planet number Gee-five-six-two-three, Czerka designation Edean." the Ithorian portmaster rumbled.<p>

Val blinked. "Uh, I thought this was Kashyyyk."

"Yes, that is what the natives call the world, but since this is a Czerka Corporation outpost, the company has naming rights. The name 'Edean' was voted on by a majority of shareholders."

Whatever it was that had Zaalbar so riled up, Val had the feeling it might have something to do with this. "Is there some place where I could find information about… the planet?"

"In exchange for a one hundred credit docking fee, Czerka provides any information its customers need, as well as access to weapons and supplies to make your stay more comfortable."

_Weapons for a comfortable stay?_ Val was feeling worse and worse about this whole thing the longer she stood out on the docking platform. She made a sudden decision, and gestured subtly with one hand. "I won't be here for very long; you don't need me to pay the docking fee."

The Ithorian rocked back on its large hooves, then nodded. "Of course not. The Czerka office is right this way."

Bastila caught up with her along the way. "What under the stars was _that_? Are we tight-fisted now?"

Val bit her tongue, shoving her frustration down. "You really think these people are using their customers' money to help the Wookiees? Or anyone else except themselves?"

"Well, no, but - "

"So maybe paying a hundred credits could do a lot more harm than not paying."

"Well, yes, but - "

"And I'm not paying these people one more credit than I absolutely have to."

Bastila sighed. "Very well. But I don't think cheating anyone is exactly the right thing to do."

"What, you think I'm going to lose light side points for this or something? Don't worry, I can make it back up with a good deed or two later on."

The Jedi clenched her jaw so hard Val expected to hear teeth shatter anytime. "Carth is right about you, Valena. As much as I admire you, you are still the most annoying person I have ever met."

Val snorted. "Just think of putting up with me as your Jedi trial."

"Oh, trust me, I do," Bastila quipped back. "Look, I'll meet you back at the ship. I don't think Zaalbar should be alone just now."

_With four other people and two droids_, Val thought, _I don't think he'll be lonely._ But she simply nodded and let Bastila walk away.

It could have been late spring or early summer on Kashyyyk; the air was warm with a hint of dew, though the covering of trees gave the surroundings a constant twilit cast. The occasional spear of light was populated by flying insects as long as her arm; the insects were preyed upon by leather-winged monsters she hoped she would never get a closer look at. She didn't want to think about what larger creatures might prey on them in turn.

Val stopped for a moment, leaning on one hand against the wall at her left. The wall was rough, brownish-grey, with patches of blue moss clustered in miniature crevasses. Then she felt the life burning beneath the surface, and realized it was, not a wall, but the trunk of a gigantic tree.

Sudden vertigo made her head spin. Her senses flailed around, looking for something to grab onto, but found only vast spaces interrupted by even vaster pillars of long, slow life. The wooden walkway she stood on, the houses clinging like mites to the side of the trunk, the entire village layered carefully in the myriad branches of a single tree - even the enormous Wookiees here were nothing more than specks temporarily inhabiting one eternal world-tree among millions.

Far below her, something recently awakened in the depths tasted her presence, and began to stir.

Val's eyes shot open. She was suddenly ravenous. Her senses narrowed in on the feeling, and she looked up to see a huge arachnid kinrath clinging to the bark of the wall above her, chameleon hide mottling with the shadows, its long mandible poised to strike. She yanked her hand away in revulsion and hurried down the walkway.

A few meters away, a permacrete bunker rode on the side of the trunk like a blister. Val stepped inside, noting the overworked cooling unit and the recycled air. It seemed Czerka didn't fancy being contaminated by the planetary atmosphere. Off to one side, a young Wookiee lay curled up in a cage; a sign announced that he could be her property for the low price of only two hundred fifty-seven thousand credits.

Only her comlink's buzz kept Val from unclipping her lightsaber and leaving smoking holes in every Czerka employee within sight.

"What is it?"

"_Mission has gone missing again_," Bastila's voice answered.

"Again? Please tell me she took someone with her."

"_Not this time. The only other person out of the Hawk right now is you._"

"I'll be right there."

* * *

><p>"Okay, who saw her last?"<p>

Carth gave an ironic little wave. "That would be me. She, uh, she kicked me out when I tried to go talk to her." He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Might have had something to do with me calling her a kid."

Val pinched the bridge of her nose. That "kid" was getting to be more trouble than she was worth. "Okay, maybe once we've found her, we ought to stop by a nice, safe planet to drop her and Zaalbar off at."

Juhani looked at her questioningly. "Why would you say such a thing? The child _wants_ to be here. We all want to be here. We would not have stayed with you, if we did not also believe in your mission."

Val laughed dryly. "Mission believes in our mission. Thanks. I'm not going to be able to get that out of my head now."

Zaalbar woofed softly. It was obvious that Val felt badly about getting Mission into this mess, but she wasn't Val's responsibility; she was Zaalbar's. He'd angered her, and he didn't blame her for running off. He just hoped she ran into one of his fellow Wookiees before something worse ran into her.

"Okay, well, we still need to find her. Zaalbar, I'm sorry, but I don't think you should go with me."

The big Wookiee thought for a moment, then nodded sadly.

"Hell, she'd probably just run the other way if she spotted me coming," Carth noted.

"Statement: I would be happy to retrieve this meatbag for you, Master," HK-47 offered, "especially if it became necessary to retrieve her... piece by piece."

Val stalked over to the droid and turned him off. There was a smattering of applause from Carth, Bastila, and Juhani.

"I'll go with you." Val had been trying to ignore Canderous, as he slouched in the corner whetting one of his daggers. "I've had a lot of experience with people running away from me." An awkward silence greeted that statement, and Canderous snorted. "Relax, people, that was a joke. Anyway, the kid trusts me, for whatever reason."

He put away the blade and whetstone and glanced at Val. "But it's your choice. I'm here if you want something done right."

Val nodded, trying to hide the way her stomach was doing flips. She hadn't been alone with Canderous since that time in the cargo hold.

* * *

><p>"That son of a half-blooded, naked monkey lizard!" Val stomped away from the Wookiee gathering hall, so livid she was shaking. "I guess it's true, it really does take all sorts."<p>

Canderous said nothing, but the quirk of an eyebrow and the twist at one corner of his mouth said enough.

Zaalbar's problems with his homeworld were becoming a lot clearer now. With a brother who'd taken the role of chieftain - almost certainly through treachery - only to turn his power into money and more power when he'd invited Czerka in for slave hunting, it was no wonder Zaalbar had turned his back on Kashyyyk, hoping never to return.

Claiming that he had Mission in his custody, Chuundar had demanded they deliver Zaalbar to him in exchange for the girl.

"I mean, you hear the stories about Wookiees and life debts and their strength and bravery, and Zaalbar is one of the nicest people I've ever met, but that brother of his is…"

Canderous said something descriptive in Mandalorian.

"Yeah, one of those."

"So, are you going to turn Zaalbar over to Chuundar?"

Val stopped and stared at him. "Are you actually suggesting that I should?"

That damn smirk of his was back again. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just curious to know what you're going to do."

"I don't know yet. I think it'll be up to Zaalbar; Chuundar's his brother, he probably knows how to handle him best."

But by the time they got back to the _Ebon Hawk_, Zaalbar was already gone.

* * *

><p>"You told us you would return Mission to us in exchange for Zaalbar."<p>

Her Wookiee friend was chained up in a corner. Mission was nowhere in sight.

Chuundar bared his fangs in a sardonic snarl. The child had asked him a few questions, then left. Was it his fault she had misinterpreted his answers? Where was Zaalbar, she had asked; lost in shadows, had been his reply.

Little girls, that snarl said, shouldn't go wandering around alone in dangerous places.

Zaalbar roared, leaping out at his brother in fury, but he was jerked to a halt by the short length of his chains.

Val's whole body was prickling, as if her fear and fury were tiny knives all trying to cut their way out of her skin. "Is she here or not?"

The Wookiee chieftain shrugged. She'd been here, then she'd left. All he wanted was his dear brother back in his care.

"You call _that_ care?"

A dangerous, rumbling chuckle. Didn't they know that the Wookiee they traveled with was insane? He was a known madclaw. Their friend Zaalbar was unstable; he had attacked both his father and his brother with his claws, something that was forbidden even in the direst combat.

Chuundar held up one giant, hairy paw. A handful of claws sprang out like knives.

Using their claws aggressively - tools nature had given them to allow them to climb and live in the sacred wroshyr trees - was the most dishonorable, unthinkable act any Wookiee could ever commit, he snarled.

Val looked him in the eye. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I could think of a few things a Wookiee could do that were even worse."

The Wookiee grinned at them, showing all his teeth. They were no longer welcome here. If they wanted to find their little friend, he suggested they go down.

Into the Shadowlands.

* * *

><p>The Twi'lek homeworld of Ryloth was an oddity. One side always faced towards its sun, the other towards the cold stars. The Twi'lek themselves lived in between, in mountain caves and eternal twilight. Away from Ryloth, Twi'leks had learned to live in the in-between places of the rest of the galaxy as well. Twi'leks filled the thousands of jobs - both legal and not - that few others wanted, wherever droids were unsuitable.<p>

But this little one had never quite learned her people's philosophy of living halfway between midnight and dawn. Always on the move, from one extreme to the next. She was lucky he'd found her when he had. Lucky - or the Force wasn't done with her yet.

Jolee Bindo had seen Ryloth and a hundred other worlds, and was himself a practitioner of its careful philosophy; but rarely had he met any of its people so unused to living in between.

The girl stirred and rolled over, mumbling in her sleep. Her lekku twitched in a dream that Bindo could only sense as anxiety and a great longing. This child had lived in great darkness all her life, and darkness was all he could see for her future, as well.

The old man closed his eyes, leaned back against the rough wall of his hut, and listened to the trees. Slowly, he blocked out every other distraction, from the girl's breathing, to the soughing of the wind, even his own heartbeat.

The slow giants whispered in unhurried rhythm. He would have more company soon.

The great Beast was stirring, and Jolee was slowly discovering a burning desire to meet it.

* * *

><p>Gorwooken was the name of the warrior who guarded the rope-and-pulley lift that would let them down into the forest below. A stoic and unfriendly character, he didn't talk much, only enough for Val to gather that, as much as he may have disliked Chuundar's rule, he hated offworlders - especially humans - even more.<p>

He instructed them to be quiet and still, unless they wanted to attract attention - this last said in an almost hopeful tone, as if he would have happily fed them to whatever monstrous predator might have been drawn to the lift. Val chafed under the Wookiee's obvious hatred and disdain, but said nothing.

_What could I say, anyway?_ she wondered. _Hey, not every offworlder is interested only in profit?_ She snorted to herself, imagining the Jedi here on Kashyyyk. They'd likely be more interested in studying Wookiee culture and artifacts than seeing them as individuals.

She gave up the internal discourse and drew her attention to her surroundings. Canderous' eyes were already at work, piercing the darkness at every angle. Val had the sudden, strange thought that the Mandalorian was almost as eager for a predator to show up as Gorwooken was.

Filling her own gaze with the immense tree trunks, Val let her senses drift into the Force. Every planet had its own flavor, texture, color. On Dantooine the Force had been tamed, beaten into a sword of light by the Jedi at the Enclave. It was wilder on Tatooine, but not outright aggressive. On the desert world, the arid Force had waited pitilessly for Val to make a fatal mistake. But here on Kashyyyk, the Force was crouched like a predator, purring in anticipation of ripping into her flesh.

Val didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until the lift touching down shook her out of her trance. Canderous gave her a toothy smile, saluted the Wookiee, and stepped off onto the musty soil. Disturbed, Val followed. She turned to thank Gorwooken, but he had already begun reeling the lift back up to the village and the light. The only thing now connecting them to the village above was a length of rope attached to a bell far above. All it would take would be a failure or break in that rope, and they could be trapped down here forever.

A memory of her own panic in the close darkness of the ruins of Dantooine almost overwhelmed her. _Shadow fear, just shadow fea__r_, she chanted to herself, but another vision took her - one of her own body, lifeless, a chewed and bloody carcass left to the hunger of the depths. She started trembling.

Canderous' rough hand grabbed her. "Snap out of it," he growled. "You lose your mind, you lose your life."

_And I'll lose his respect_, the unbidden thought followed. Did he respect her? She'd never stopped to consider that. But she supposed he must, since he was still with her on this crazy mission. Suddenly she realized that his respect was something she desperately needed. Bastila and the rest of the Jedi needed her visions and Force strength; Juhani looked up to her as a hero, someone to help her redeem herself; Carth admired her, but was more concerned with finding and killing Saul Karath; Mission was along for the adventure, and Zaalbar simply went wherever his charge did.

Canderous, she realized, was the only member of their mismatched group who saw her as a person instead of an asset. And how crazy was that - a Mandalorian choosing to team up with a Jedi, a member of the same Order that had finally defeated his people: not because he necessarily had the same ends in mind, but because he respected her.

She found herself calm and steady now.

She nodded and gave him a small smile, even though she wasn't sure he'd be able to see much of her face in this low light. "Thank you," she said.

He grunted. "So where to?"

Val fumbled out her datapad, cupping her hand over its brightly lit screen. Czerka had uploaded a rudimentary map for her; scanning the twisting paths, she realized that even at this depth, they were still walking, not on hard earth, but on a deeper level of branches. Soil had built up on the deeply grooved wood, seeded with low-light sedge, nightgrass, and fungus.

"I can't tell," she admitted. "The Force is too dark here; I can't get a good lead on anything."

"So we do this the old fashioned way. Hike around and look."

"Yeah, but watch where you hike. The Wookiees say if you step off the edge, you'll fall for years."

"You sound like you've been here before."

Val snapped the datapad closed. "I… suppose I may have. In my previous life, or whatever you want to call it. Weird how I can remember little things like that, but I can't actually remember any specifics about who I was or what I did." She shook her head again, shoving the datapad away, along with the gaping hole she had instead of a life.

Canderous grunted wordlessly again as they started walking, heading roughly northeast. Val's eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the darkness, and she stayed close to the armored comfort beside her.

She'd been worried about being alone with him earlier, but now she couldn't see Carth or Bastila or Juhani being so -

He should have clattered, or clanked, or something, came the ludicrous thought. But she could hear barely a whisper.

She stared into the darkness, picking out the borders of dark and darker. It wasn't enough, so she stretched out into the Force, groping her way ahead. She could feel the borders of the branch they walked on, many meters away on either side. Pillared roots dangled from above, digging into the soil on the branches below like stalactites in a cave mouth. Her Force sense traveled along one branch to another, to another, all joined and webbed together into something that might have been a single organism.

The trees supported each other, she realized. That was what these deep branches were for. They propped each other up, in more ways than one: where one branch met another, they melded together, drawing upon and exchanging nutrients and energy. It was a deep and peaceful symbiosis that was totally at odds with the dark, sickly texture of the Force.

She gasped aloud, suddenly understanding. "I think I know where the Star Map is," she said quietly. "Or at least how I can find it."

"Yeah?"

"The Force is all wrong here - twisted. Something's here that doesn't belong here, something dark. And the Jedi are convinced that the Star Maps are artifacts of the dark side, maybe even built by the ancient Sith."

"So?"

"So if I can figure out where the darkness here is coming from, maybe it'll be the Star Map."

"Huh. And what if it's something else?"

"Oh, then it'll probably be a great huge monster that will toss us around a bit and then eat us for dinner."

"Val." Canderous' voice was quiet, almost - she thought for an instant - affectionate. But then she realized he wasn't looking at _her_.

"Oh, I get it," she said stupidly. "This is the part where the great huge monster eats us, right?"

A carnivorous grin split the Mandalorian's face as the entire world began to tremble, and it seemed the Force itself rose up with a roar.


	9. The Great Hunt

**A/N:** I'd like to take a moment and remember, with thanks, Anne McCaffrey. Sometimes I joke to students that I never read anything unless it's got dragons or spaceships; well, Anne McCaffrey used both. Her strong female characters, her wonderful worlds, her unique voice, and especially her dragons and fire lizards - these all kept me (relatively) sane through a really rough adolescence. Thank you, Anne!

On to the story: Thank you again for your comments! I hope you continue to enjoy this. It's going to veer a bit into AU territory in this chapter.

A confession: I'm actually working on ch. 16 - 17, but I'm trying to post slowly enough that I can keep ahead of myself. I'd rather you guys have (somewhat) regular updates, rather than making you wait weeks or months for a new chapter.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

><p><strong>IX. The Great Hunt<strong>

It could have crawled down from a higher branch, or climbed up from beneath them, or it could have simply materialized out of the darkness itself.

Val voted on the last choice.

She'd heard about the Terentatek, the beast that, so the legends went, ancient Sith sorcery had distilled from every fear and hatred they could imagine. Almost as large as a young krayt dragon, it looked like a mad melding of rancor and laigrek, with a bit of Hutt thrown in for good measure. Reptilian scales and insectoid chitin covered a massive body that was mostly claws and fangs. Two outsized mandibles snapped open around a wet, stinking craw.

She ducked under one monstrous talon just before it took her head off. A barely coherent thought - _A thing that size shouldn't be able to move that fast!_ - wandered through her stunned brain.

The Force sizzled and popped.

Backpedaling for her life, Val got out of range of the creature's grasping claws. It scuttled sideways, four eyes glittering black, as it tried for a better angle. Behind her, she heard Canderous roar a battlecry. Red bolts flew from his heavy repeater, but most were deflected by hard scales. A few hit home, but the monster ignored both the energy bolts and the Mandalorian.

It was focused solely on Valena herself. A forked tongue licked the air, testing for her scent.

_They hunt Jedi_, she remembered dimly from her lessons at the Enclave. It was all supposed to be ancient history - the last Great Hunt had been over a century previous, and no one in recent memory had even heard a rumor of the dark side monsters. They should have become simply legends.

_They hunt Jedi, and - and what else?_ She fumbled her lightsaber to hissing life. The beast's four tiny eyes focused on the blade. _And they feed on dark side energy, they taint the Force to hide their own energy, and they can go dormant for years. That's why no one's seen or heard of this one, it's been hibernating, or something._

But trying to recall her lessons would only distract her from her immediate survival. She felt Canderous stalk behind her to take a position on the other side of the Terentatek. He began firing again, this time lower down, where the flesh was less protected. The monster roared and batted at the blaster bolts, but couldn't seem to see where they were coming from.

_Bad eyesight_, she remembered. _They use the Force to hunt instead._ Suddenly everything was coming back to her on its own. She tried calling through the Force to Bastila, Juhani, anyone who might hear and know they were in danger, but the Force was too dark and thick, like a heavy curtain drawn around them.

Dark. It was too dark. The old panic threatened again; she tried to force it down, but even her lightsaber was beginning to tremble. Then the creature stopped its shamble-charge, and backed away, seeming confused, uncertain - afraid?

_Did I do that?_ Val wondered. She let her fear loose, using it like a whip, lashing out at the creature with her own terror. It roared again and began backing up, shaking its massive head from side to side as if trying to brush off a stun net. Canderous backed away as well, staring at her nervously. His repeater didn't seem to know whether the monster, or Val herself, was its enemy.

"Listen to me, Canderous. Whatever you see or feel, it's not real. I have to fight this thing through the Force. It might have some weird effects."

The Mandalorian looked slightly sick, but he nodded, his repeater focusing on the growling Terentatek. It was recovering from the fearful confusion she'd caused.

_Fear is the path to the dark side_, the memory of Master Zhar whispered in her mind - but Zhar wasn't here, and the dark side was all that existed down here. _No choice..._

Her lightsaber steadied in her hand. _I can do this_, she thought. The Force was slippery, dark, like an oily stain on deep water, but she didn't hesitate to touch it. She searched in the currents until she found the ripple of the beast's primitive mind. There was an image there, a sensation of blood and crunching bone. She pulled it out, gave it life, and cast it back at the monster.

It stopped as if stunned, then its huge mandibles began to crunch and chew.

"Val!" Canderous' roar was more of a scream.

_No, no, no!_ She'd cast the illusion too wide, and Canderous was now seeing her being eaten alive. But she couldn't drop it; she knew she'd only have one chance at this. _I'm so sorry…_

Taking a deep breath, she leaped onto the beast's foreleg, then to its shoulder, finally balancing on its rolling back, then plunged her lightsaber's blade through thick scales and bone, into the braincase.

The Terentatek gave a confused moan, then slowly collapsed.

"It's okay, I'm alive!" Val jumped down from the creature's back, then stopped. "Canderous?" Darkness was boiling out of the carcass like poison, surrounding her and reaching for the Mandalorian with slippery tendrils.

He was looking at her with murder in his eyes. "_Jetii_ witch," he snarled.

Val suddenly found herself parrying blaster bolts with her lightsaber as Canderous threw himself at her. "Stop! No!"

He couldn't hear her, she realized. With the Terentatek's death, the Force had only become darker and more violent, the creature's body leaking malevolence along with blood and ichor. She ripped the heavy repeater out of his hands with the Force, but he drew a pair of daggers; she threw a Force barrier against him, but it only slowed him down.

_He's going to kill me_, she thought with a new rush of panic. The darkness thrashed and scraped as if the Force itself were a dying animal, trying to take every nearby creature with it into nothingness.

"Canderous, you have to listen to me, please," she tried, the barrier holding him - barely - but now she had backed up into the monstrous carcass. He was close enough now that whichever way she might try to dodge, he'd be on her in less than a second. Maybe Carth or one of the others could have been talked down, but this was Canderous Ordo. He was too accustomed to unleashing his violent instincts.

The only way she could save her own life was by taking his.

_No!_

All of a sudden she knew what to do. If the Force was twisted, she would untwist it. She couldn't turn it back to the light side - she didn't think all the Masters on Dantooine could do such a thing so quickly - but she could draw it away from murder into… something else.

Val shut down her lightsaber, closed her eyes, and pushed. She remembered the grove on Dantooine -

_"Not much of a fight. When do we get to the good stuff?"_

She could feel Canderous stopping now, confused, and she thought about the Ebon Hawk's cargo hold -

_He devoured her mouth, biting her lips, then her chin, and her neck. Lips, tongue, and teeth battled each other for a taste of her skin, his hands running over her body._

Canderous swayed on his feet, sheathing his daggers. "Val…? What am I - what are you - " He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her. Her Force barrier had dissolved, and nothing separated them now.

But she didn't have to make that final push in the Force; he was himself again, she didn't have to -

"Please, Canderous."

The oily blackness of the Force shimmered and blossomed into flame.

His hands were on her, his body pushing hers back against the hard edge of darkness behind her. She fumbled at his armor, unbuckling straps and hooks as his mouth found hers. _I shouldn't_, she thought helplessly. _We should stop this, we should stop -_

She dared to look him in the eyes, and almost fell in.

His armor was gone, his fatigues stripped off, and now his hands were finding her skin beneath her Jedi robes. She heard a seam pop, and struggled out of her own garb before anything else could tear. Then he was kissing her savagely again, his tongue invading her mouth. She rallied and mounted a counter-attack, touching, tasting, exploring him.

Rough hands supported her against a scaly hide as she wrapped her legs around him, and then he was inside her, that most welcome invasion.

Their mouths met again, two starving creatures, each frantically consuming the other. Her hands clawed at his back, her breath coming in sharp-edged, moaning gasps. She could feel his pulse in her ears as her own joined his rhythm. The entire Shadowlands hummed and beat in tune. The Force was a living, thrumming, burning thing, and for half an instant she wondered who - or what - else might be drawn to it.

The smell of him, sweat and metal and utterly male drowned out such thoughts; the feel of the hair on his chest, both wiry and soft at the same time, over the stretch and pull of hard-worked muscle. _The Jedi have it all wrong._ Teeth playing along the scars on her collarbone, Canderous was muttering something unintelligible under his breath. One hand caressed the base of her throat, and she arched into it, urging him on.

And then she was seeing what he saw, feeling what he felt. He was flat on his back on the ashes of a barren world, a blazing blue lightsaber at his throat. He'd been utterly defeated - and he was grinning. Their shared climax threw her back into her own body, stunned and bewildered.

Trembling, they held on to each other for a moment. At some point it had started to rain; the cool moisture refreshed her. Reluctantly, Val slipped out of his arms, and began to gather her clothes.

She turned around and looked at their impromptu bed. It was somehow appropriate.

_I should be disgusted_, she thought, shaking her head. _Horrified. Or something._

Canderous misinterpreted her expression, though, and the next thing she knew she was in his grasp again, his fingers squeezing hard against her arms. "Don't you go Jedi on me," he growled against her neck. "Don't you dare regret this."

"I'm not. I don't," she answered, and discovered it was true. "But - sex on the carcass of a monster? Is this what you meant when you said something about how Mandalorians celebrate?"

The comment surprised a chuckle out of him, and his grip loosened into something almost gentle. He ducked low, kissing the scars on her arm, then patted the Terentatek almost lovingly. "Not exactly, _mesh'la_. But it'll do."

Val blinked, astonished. _Here I am, scarred and filthy, standing naked in the rain, and he calls me beautiful. Yeah, the Jedi have _no_ idea._

The rain started drumming more heavily, and turning her face into it for a moment, she began to rinse herself off. She felt Canderous' hands join hers, threatening to turn the impromptu shower into something else all over again.

"Wait a minute," she said, blinking water out of her eyes. "What is that?"

"What, didn't they teach you anatomy lessons at Jedi school?"

"Not that," she laughed, "_that_." She pointed toward something protruding out of one lumpy shoulder of the Terentatek carcass. Retrieving her slightly muddy lightsaber, she lit it and began carefully cutting away, coughing slightly at the fumes, until she could pull out whatever it was.

"Huh," was Canderous' only remark.

"Look at this. It's of Wookiee make, I think."

"A blade without a pommel?"

Val grinned. "Yeah, a blade without a pommel, and I think we just found the solution to Zaalbar's problems. I think we saw the other half hanging on the wall of Chuundar's hall."

"As a matter of fact, it is."

In one smooth motion, Canderous had scooped up his repeater and was aiming it at the intruder. Cursing, Val scrambled back into her wet clothing, wishing she could feel as comfortable in her naked skin as Canderous did in his own.

"Relax, kids, I'm no voyeur. But hey, I wouldn't be surprised if they heard you all the way out on Coruscant." The old man had appeared out of nowhere, his skin and robes as brown and wrinkled as the trees around him. He nodded at Canderous and Valena, then indicated the strange weapon. "That's Bacca's Blade. It's the symbol of the rightful ruler around these parts. You might want to think twice about how you present it to ol' Chuundar."

* * *

><p>Stew bubbled aromatically on a low fire in Jolee's camp. Mission, who'd been asleep when they'd arrived, had eaten two full bowls of it and was now on her third; Canderous had eaten quickly and was now standing watch a few meters away in the dark; and Valena had taken her lightsaber apart, cleaned it, and started reassembling it. She had an idea she wanted to try, and now was as good a time as any.<p>

Jolee lit a hand-carved pipe and sucked in the aromatic smoke. Val didn't know what he was - he carried a lightsaber, but didn't act like any Jedi she'd ever met. And since they weren't dead, he obviously wasn't a Sith. "So, how is everyone back at the old folks' home? Vrook still scaring the spit out of the kids?"

Val grinned and nodded. Balancing her lightsaber housing on the cloth laid across her lap, she kept it perfectly still with the Force while she secured her dragon pearl behind the focusing gem. If this worked, the blade would become much more powerful; if it didn't, she might not have a lightsaber left when she ignited it. Or a hand, either.

The old man watched her, his eyes twinkling behind slowly spiraling smoke rings. "That's an interesting modification there. Should I duck when you turn it on?"

"You might want to," Val admitted. She double-checked her adjustments, both with her sight and in the Force, secured the housing, folded away the cloth, and stood up. With one last hopeful prayer, she ignited the blade.

An odd feeling of peace descended on her as the blade sprang out. Where it had been pure blue before, now it was limned in a milky silver glow, and it thrummed a full octave lower.

"Ooh, pretty," Jolee said.

Val smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and closed down her lightsaber.

Mission looked at her guiltily. "I'm… I'm sorry I ran out on you guys like that. I just wanted to help Big Z. Chuundar said he'd come down here..."

Val exchanged a bitter glance with Canderous. "I know, sweetie. Don't worry, we'll get Zaalbar out of this." _And pay Chuundar back for the murder he'd hoped to commit._

"But don't you guys have to find the next, y'know, thing?" She eyed Jolee, obviously unsure as to whether it was all right to mention the Star Maps in front of him.

But if Mission's comment sparked any interest from Jolee, Val couldn't sense it. The old man kept his reactions shut behind the thickest barrier she'd ever encountered.

Val scooped up a bowl of stew for herself and took a grateful bite. She'd been too wired up at first to eat, but working on her lightsaber had calmed and centered her again. "Yes, but who knows how long it'll take to find what we need? It'll keep, but Zaalbar won't."

Jolee squinted at her. "Putting a friend over your duty, eh? Strange. I coulda sworn you were a Jedi when you walked in here." He glanced over at the silhouette of Canderous, and chuckled like an old lecher. "Then again…"

Val blushed furiously, and Mission stated, "Oh, I so do _not_ want to know what that's about!"

"Tell you what," Jolee said, leaning back and crossing his legs. "I'll make a deal with you. I've got a few things to check up on, while you kids get a good night's sleep. I'll be back by morning, to escort the errant young lady back to where she needs to be, and then I'll lead you to that Star Map you want."

Val almost blurted out, _Who said anything about a Star Map?_ but asked instead, "In exchange for what?"

"Two things. First, you help me help an old friend. Freyr was half-mad last time I ran into him, but I think the chance to make things right with Zaalbar might clear a few cobwebs out."

"If you can help Zaalbar, we'll go along with whatever you need. So that means we'd really only be doing one thing for you."

Jolee nodded. "All right then. We'll see ol' Freyr tomorrow, I'll take you folks down to the Star Map, and then we'll all go and see if we can't set Chuundar out on his hairy ass."

"And then?"

"You take me with you when you leave."

"I thought you liked it here?" Mission said.

"Well," Jolee sighed, "Kashyyyk certainly is a beautiful and mysterious place. Fine planet to get lost in when you need a long time to think. But after a while, a body just gets so damn sick of all these _trees!_"

Mission laughed.

Val wondered what Jolee had needed a long time to think about.

* * *

><p><em>She was running along the tree roads of Kashyyyk, but there was no surrounding feeling of life. Instead the yawning blackness was cold and empty - except for the brilliance she kept trying to reach.<em>

_She had run for hours, but it seemed that the faster she ran, the slower she became. Out of breath, her muscles burning with fatigue, she tried to draw on the Force to refresh herself - but the Force was as cold and dead as the emptiness surrounding her._

_Finally she stopped, bent over against a stitch in her side, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were closed - why bother trying to see, when everything was dark? - but the darkness behind her lids suddenly flared into life._

_She opened her eyes and straightened. Canderous had found her. Val had learned that everyone had an aura in the Force, but the Mandalorian's burned more brightly than anyone else's she'd seen, surging like a bonfire against the cold shadows. Somewhere behind him, Jedi lightsabers zinged and crashed against blaster fire and the hell-red blades of the Sith._

_He stretched out his hand to her, and she reached out towards him, but found herself being drawn away. His face was hard, but his voice was a broken plea: "Don't go."_

_"I don't want to go!" she called back, but he had dwindled again to the flash of brilliance she'd been chasing before. And the faster she ran towards the light, the smaller it became._

_Something hammered the wind out of her and flattened her on her back. A voice as familiar as her own - but one she couldn't place - cracked into existence._

"Something is coming."

* * *

><p>Val woke, gasping. Who had spoken? And from where? She cast around wildly, but the sense of immediate danger faded into the background thrum and surge of life.<p>

"Something is coming." She felt her lips move, but didn't recognize the insistent voice speaking through them.

"What?" Canderous' voice asked out of the blackness. Something sparked, and his face appeared out of thin air, floating nearby above a glow rod.

"I don't know," Val said. "Did I say that?"

Canderous just looked at her. That decided her: "We need to leave," she announced. "Now."

"What about the old man?" Canderous asked.

"We can't wait for him," Val insisted, rolling up her blanket and stuffing it away into her pack, feeling blindly to make sure her lightsaber was secure at her belt. "Whatever's out there, it's getting closer. It's… camouflaged, I don't know if even Jolee's sensed it." She stood up, her sleep-tangled hair brushing against the low wood overhead. "Or maybe he has sensed it, and that's why he wanted to leave with us..."

The Mandalorian's eyes narrowed, then his gaze moved away.

"You kids need to get out of here, right now," Jolee's voice said, rougher than she remembered from before.

Val jumped, her heart pounding, then nodded. "We know. What's the quickest way out of the Shadowlands?"

"No quick way unless you're a Wookiee," the old man coughed. He was invisible in the darkness beyond Canderous' glow rod, but Val could just make out his breathing, the cloth of his old robes rustling softly against... something.

She was already turning, her mouth already forming a desperate "No!" when she heard the first sizzle of that cloth, the hitching gurgle of his breath, behind the sudden low thrum of the ruby blade that sprouted out of his stomach.

The blade snapped off again. A voice said, "Shhh," as something lowered Jolee's body gently to the ground.

Valena's lightsaber was already out and lit. "No! Why? Who are you?" The pale blue light coalesced around her blade, but didn't touch the darkness beyond. Somewhere she heard Canderous' voice, rhythmic with insistence, but there was no time to listen.

"You don't know me," a harsh voice replied. "But I've been waiting for this chance. For a very long time."

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"You don't deserve to know my name." The voice had moved, drifting now somewhere to her right, barely audible footsteps leading around the outside of Jolee's hut. "But I have followed in the path that you abandoned. I have succeeded in what you relinquished."

Val closed her eyes and let her feet trail the voice, trusting her senses to guide her. Something brushed across her perceptions. She flailed after it, grasping in the dark.

The voice laughed. "And they say that we are the fallen? Look at you. You can't even play a simple game of hide and seek."

"Val, _stop! _Don't take another step!"

She could have sworn she knew the warning voice from… somewhere. Did it matter? There were two voices, and it was vitally important that she find the first one. Find it, and… and what? She didn't know.

"Why stop now?" the first voice mused. "You're already so close."

But there weren't just two voices now, one egging her on, one cautioning her to stop. There was a third voice, the voice inside of her that sounded so familiar, and it urged her to caution - and _listen!_

Eyes still closed, she tested the ground in front of her. The nightgrass that had been brushing against her legs and tickling her fingertips had stopped. The soil crumbled at her toes, hinting at a drop just beyond.

Val opened her eyes. What had she been thinking? Where was Canderous? Jolee? Whatever had attacked them must have taken Jolee's body - she didn't want to think what it might want with Jolee's corpse.

The last few moments rushed back into her mind. Sweat broke out all over her skin, drenching her and making her shudder with more than cold. She could barely make out the edge in front of her, the long drop that would have swallowed her had she continued in her dream-walk.

One strong hand fell on her shoulder, another blocked her wrist as she spun her lightsaber to cut through the darkness. "It's me, Val," Canderous said. "Snap out of it."

"Where's Mission? Is she safe?"

"Yeah, Jolee just left, but Mission's still asleep."

Val ran, breathless, all the way back, the horrible fear doubling when she saw Mission's still form on the cot. Then the girl stirred and woke, her eyes wide at Val's expression. "What's wrong?"

"We have to get out of here. Now! We have to hurry. I think the Sith have caught up with us."


	10. Justice

**X. Justice**

They were all there - Bastila, Juhani, the two droids, and poor Zaalbar, still chained to the wall in the chieftain's hall - when they emerged from the Shadowlands. Val had demanded that they return to the village immediately. They'd have to bring their full complement with them, if they expected to get past whatever had taken out Jolee.

They had to have Zaalbar.

Canderous insisted that Jolee had left before whatever-it-was could have found him - but Val had _seen _it. She'd seen the hideous red blade, she'd watched him gasping out his last few painful breaths. Nothing but death could have left that awful scar on her mind.

Juhani shifted next to her, watching the ugly drama before them intently. Chundaar made pronouncement after ridiculous pronouncement, demanding reparations from Valena and her companions which would have amounted to more than the _Ebon Hawk_ was worth - had they any intention of going along with the petty tyrant. Val translated quietly, shaking her head in fury as Chundaar went on to declare that Zaalbar was to be transferred to Czerka ownership. Perhaps they could break his dear brother of his madclaw tendencies.

Mission started crying. Val hugged her, feeling helpless. The Wookiees had demanded they turn over their weapons before entering the chieftain's house. A Jedi, of course, was never without the Force - but Jolee had been strong in the Force, too.

Someone outside pounded on the door. One of the Czerka guards stationed around the chamber answered. Val turned to look, but couldn't see who it was. She could hear what sounded like a ceremonial answer given in a sing-song, archaic Wookiee dialect.

The guard shook his head, his hand going to the blaster at his belt, but the door slammed inward, splintering on its hinges.

The biggest Wookiee Valena had ever seen stood silhouetted in the doorway, the broken body of another guard in one huge paw. He dropped the guard like a ruined doll as he tromped in, snarling at everyone and everything; then stopped, dripping rain, before Chundaar. He bent over slightly, and spat in Chundaar's face.

The hall erupted. Valena and the other Jedi kept the Czerka guards busy, yanking away their blasters with the Force, while the Wookiees piled up in a literal furball in the middle of the great hall. One by one, the smaller bodies were thrown out of the fight, until there were only three left.

The big, grey-furred Wookiee shoved Chuundar against a wall. Stalking past him, he lifted Zaalbar bodily to his feet, and without any noticeable effort snapped his chains. He said something in the same strange dialect, and Zaalbar straightened, showing his teeth.

Val felt someone come up behind her and turned around. Her jaw dropped open. "Jolee - you're alive!"

"Eh. In a manner of speaking." The old man hobbled on one good leg, his right arm curled around his stomach, and one eye swollen shut. "Thought you kids were going to come visit my old friend Freyr with me?"

"But - but I saw you die!"

"Almost did," Jolee remarked, looking Valena up and down suspiciously with his one good eye.

"But what happened to you? Is that - wait, _that's_ Freyr?"

Jolee's scowl disappeared into a maniacal grin. "Sure is. He didn't want to come, so I had to beat him up a little."

"I don't understand," she complained. "Why are you - _how_ are you - "

"Heh. Sounds like you met up with something even more dangerous than my old friend here."

The big Wookiee - Freyr - now stood between Zaalbar and Chundaar, holding two objects up for everyone to see. One was the blade Val and Canderous had retrieved from the Terentatek carcass; the other was the broken hilt they'd last seen hanging on the wall. There was a chorus of reverent Wookiee mutters and growls.

Freyr said something Val could almost understand, and the Wookiees gathered in the hall roared with approval. The five Czerka guards looked at each other nervously, and Val was even more glad she and her Jedi companions had disarmed them. Chundaar stood up from the wall, straightened his ceremonial necklace, and growled something about his rule being confirmed by the return of his father.

"So Freyr is their father?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Jolee chuckled. "After he banished Zaalbar, Freyr realized what a bad mistake he'd made when Chundaar showed his true colors. Left the village, lived in the Shadowlands for years, waiting for something to come along and finish him off. He's half-mad now, doesn't even remember how to speak Shyriiwook, just Old Xaczic, from where he grew up."

Zaalbar shook the broken manacles from his wrists and stood tall, not saying anything. Val's heart went out to him. Freyr moved out of the way, and the two Wookiees began circling each other slowly.

"Jolee?" Mission said tremulously. "What's going on?"

The old man laid a gentle hand on Mission's shoulder, beneath one of her curving lekku. "An old tradition, one that goes even farther back than the Republic." His voice was soft, devoid of its usual good humor. "They're going to let the Force and their own strength decide who's right… and who's dead."

"No," Mission whispered. Val moved next to her, putting her arm around her back, and the rest of the group moved in as well, as if it weren't Zaalbar in danger, but the young Twi'lek instead.

The two Wookiees exploded into action, more agile and quick than their huge size suggested. Their fight was nothing like the _teräs käsi_ that most Jedi practiced, or any kind of wrestling or grappling Val had ever seen, but something in between, something brutal and fierce. She could hear the crunch of impact as bodies smashed together, the ripping sound of fur tearing, and the chuffing, growling breath of the two combatants.

Neither spoke, but Val could see early on that it was no contest. Chundaar was slightly taller, but even after days of confinement, Zaalbar was stronger than his brother. The chieftain tried a desperate throw, but Zaalbar turned his weight against him and somehow - quicker than Val could follow - had him in a reverse throat lock, one arm wrapped securely around his brother's neck.

Chundaar's arm flashed up, Val felt a horrified sinking feeling - and then a blaster sang out.

Chundaar collapsed to the floor, dead, his fur smoking from the burns in his chest.

A room full of angry Wookiees rounded on Carth Onasi. "What, you didn't see that? Don't tell me you didn't see that!"

"See what?" Val asked.

"No, wait!" Mission cried. "Look!"

The Wookiees followed her gaze. Chundaar's right hand was still outstretched in his final, frantic attempt to save his own life. The torchlight glinted strangely off his fingers, and with a start Val realized that the Wookiee had been fighting with his claws out.

Zaalbar hit the floor with a tired sigh, his dark fur soaked even darker with his own blood.

The Wookiee holding Carth let him go, growling something that sounded like _justice_. The other Wookiees took up the word and passed it around themselves, turning it into a chant, then a roar. The Czerka guards tried to run, but it was too little, too late. In moments they were dead, the door thrown wide, Wookiees pouring out into the night.

It was raining, but the drumming, hissing downpour couldn't drown out the sudden zing of blasters, the screams of dying Czerka, and the roar of a fierce world freeing itself.

One of the only two Wookiees left in the great hall moved forward, helped his son to stand, and gave him a slow hug. _Justice_, Freyr repeated to Zaalbar, and Zaalbar answered with the same growling word.

Mission gave a whoop of pure joy and threw herself into her best friend's arms.

* * *

><p>Mission wasn't going to let Zaalbar out of her sight ever again.<p>

The Wookiees had let them stay in Rwookrrorro until Val and the others had found their Star Map. Zaalbar was their chieftain now, and Mission was alternately thrilled for him, and nervous for herself. She liked Zaalbar an awful lot, of course - loved him even - but she wasn't sure she could handle life in a whole village of Wookiees.

But it didn't come to that. Zaalbar had a long talk with his father. The huge Wookiee had frightened Mission at first, but once Big Z had introduced them, Freyr had treated Mission with kindness and warm affection, almost as if she were an adopted daughter. Zaalbar decided that he couldn't stay on Kashyyyk, even after regaining his honor in his father's eyes. He still didn't feel that he had redeemed himself; and his wounds, from more than just his battle with Chundaar, were still too deep.

So Freyr would take up his old duties again. It would give the old Wookiee time to heal himself, as well. He presented Zaalbar with a repaired and reforged Bacca's Blade, to remind him that he had his home and honor back. To remind him that someday he had to return for good.

Mission swore silently that Zaalbar wouldn't come back alone.

When Val and the others returned from their final visit to the Shadowlands - Val looking pale and shaken - Zaalbar presented Bacca's Blade to her. A few of the other Wookiees growled in low disapproval, but Freyr simply looked at them, and they gave way.

"Uh, thank you," Val said. "I'm honored. But shouldn't this stay with you?"

It would stay with him, Zaalbar reassured her, because he himself would stay with her. She saved his life, helped him save his and his village's honor. And so for himself, and for his people, he was swearing a life debt to her.

It stung Mission to hear him say those words to someone else, even someone as deserving of them as Val. But only until she decided that a "life debt" was exactly what she herself owed to Zaalbar. He was more than simply her best friend. He was the big brother she wished she'd had - the brother she did have, it had just taken her this long to realize it.

So she took a life debt of her own that evening, one sworn silently so that no one else could hear. Maybe Zaalbar realized it, because he began sticking to her just as closely as she to him.

Mission felt like she had finally grown up.

* * *

><p>There was a small celebration going on in the galley, where Carth, Bastila, Mission, and Zaalbar were all laughing and sharing a drink. Even Bastila was indulging, Val noticed with a small smile. Carth raised his glass to the young Jedi; Bastila looked away too soon, but she was trying to hide a blush.<p>

Val didn't feel much like celebrating. That last Star Map - something was so wrong about it. None of the other maps had had that strange alien holographic presence that talked to her, that whispered monstrous things before opening the machine.

That insisted she'd been there before.

She drifted through the small freighter, wishing there were some place to really be alone. She stopped short at the starboard berth, hearing Juhani sobbing. Then she heard another voice, Jolee's, in a slow, comforting rhythm.

If she hadn't been so confused and unsure herself, she would have joined the old man in talking Juhani out of yet another of her self-hating moods.

She backed out as quietly as she could, but bumped into Canderous, seeming no more in the mood to celebrate than Val.

"Oh," she said. "Hi."

He nodded solemnly at her. "It was good to see Zaalbar's people regain their strength."

Val blinked at that un-Canderous remark. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my Mandalorian?"

His signature smirk reappeared, and Val's mood suddenly lightened. "Your Mandalorian?" Canderous repeated, as if turning the words over in his mind. "I think I like the sound of that." He bent down to exchange a deep kiss with her. There was heat there, but banked low and shielded behind the understanding that Val wanted to keep what was between them private - for now.

Val's whole body caught fire, and she had almost decided it was worth the virulent lectures a certain young Jedi would give her, until the sound of delicate footsteps echoing on the deck plates made her pull away and catch her breath. She straightened her tunic and smoothed her hair back while Canderous made himself scarce with a curse.

Bastila appeared, looking slightly flustered. "I thought Canderous was here a moment ago?" Val contrived to look innocent, but Bastila went on. "Never mind. I would like a moment of your time to speak to both of you."

_Oh, boy_, Val thought, _here it comes._

But then Bastila said, "Carth, too, actually. I owe all of you a bit of an apology."

Now Val was confused, but she nodded and followed Bastila. Canderous was already waiting just outside the overcrowded cockpit.

Carth, legs propped up on the instrument board, kept one eye on their hyperspace course. Canderous leaned against the hatchway, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Val realized that the two men had, somewhere along the line, become much easier with each other.

With a polite apology, Bastila squeezed past the big Mandalorian. She steepled her hands, seemed to realized how silly the gesture looked, and finally stuck her hands in her belt with an uncomfortable shrug.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I should have gone down to the Shadowlands on Kashyyyk, not you, Valena."

"Huh?"

"Your story of what happened - seeing Jolee die. The Sith were there. Probably not Malak himself, but an apprentice named Darth Bandon, known to be skilled in mental deception. The illusion you described was much too complicated for the usual sort of fallen Jedi or frustrated padawan the Sith attract into their ranks."

"But the way he was talking, the stuff he said to me…"

"Yes. He obviously thought you were me. I doubt the Sith know anything about you, Valena, and they certainly know nothing of your potential. If they did, Malak would not have sent a mere apprentice - not even this Bandon."

Carth sat up, putting his feet firmly on the floor. "So, would you mind actually telling us why the Sith want you in particular so badly, Bastila?"

"I - have a talent that is somewhat rare, both among the Jedi and, we can assume, the Sith. Battle meditation is far from unheard of, but trust me that I am not boasting when I tell you that I have the strongest skill in living memory."

Canderous moved for the first time, his eyes sharpening on Bastila and one hand thoughtfully curling over his mouth.

"What does that mean?" Val asked.

"It means your Jedi princess can influence the outcome of a battle, _any_ battle, without even being there."

Bastila sniffed at Canderous' princess remark, but didn't disagree.

"I'm still confused," Val complained. "What, you just twiddle your fingers, and poof, the Republic wins every time?"

Bastila started to explain, but Canderous cut her off. "Ever played dejarik? Imagine that your pieces are really starship captains, fighter pilots, corvette crews - they all have their orders, but they also have their own ideas about how to pull them off, and they're limited by their own abilities. You could just tell your dejarik pieces what to do, and they'd probably do it, but maybe they'd be too fast, or too slow, or they'd get forked. You tell your _k'lor'slug_ to take your enemy's _savrip_, and it'll do what you tell it, but then your slug gets taken out by his _monnok_. Now imagine that you're in direct control of those pieces, as if they're a part of you. You can coordinate them like no normal commander can - even confuse your enemy's pieces - because you have control over the entire board."

Bastila cleared her throat. "I was going to compare it to being the conductor of an orchestra, but I suppose Canderous' description will do. You do seem to have a very good grasp of the concept, anyway," she said to the Mandalorian.

"Comes of being on the receiving end of a few attacks coordinated by battle meditation. Yours, it turns out."

"Oh, whoa, wait a minute!" Val stepped in between the two, her hands spread wide. "You didn't tell me you fought under Revan and Malak in the Mandalorian Wars, Bastila!"

The young Jedi stood straighter, her head cocked as if waiting for a challenge. "Yes. I followed my Master to war, until he was killed in the final battle on Malachor Five. Revan herself commanded my battle meditation, and I respected her greatly. Without me, the whole galaxy would be speaking Mandalorian by now."

"Ha," Canderous replied. "You won the war single-handedly, did you? I seem to recall things differently. I have the honor of having been defeated, hand-to-hand, by Revan herself. And let me tell you, little girl: you're no Revan." He turned on his heel and stalked out, making no effort to conceal his dry laughter.

"No," Bastila murmured, her back stiff. "I am a better woman than she."

Troubled, Val followed Canderous into the cargo hold, and locked the hatch behind her. He was correcting a dent in his breastplate at the workbench. She slid her arms around his warm torso, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, and listened to him work for a moment.

"You knew Revan?"

The ring of the autohammer stopped. "I didn't say I _knew_ her, I said I had the honor of being defeated by her."

She loosened her arms as he turned to face her. "I don't understand. How can there be honor in losing a battle, for a Mandalorian?"

There it was again - the blue blade, the ringing command to yield - dancing across the surface of his mind. She felt his breath quicken. "There is no shame in defeat at the hands of an honorable opponent." Hands tangling in her hair, he kissed her, then murmured, "I would have followed Revan to the ends of the galaxy and back, if she had asked it of me."

For a moment Val felt a stab of jealousy. But Revan was long gone, and Val couldn't imagine that former hero having anything but contempt for such an enemy.


	11. Manaan:  Something Fishy

**A/N:** This chapter is affectionately dedicated to the island of Bonaire, and especially to Charlie the tarpon (a tarpon is a type of large predatory fish). During the day, Charlie is around three feet long and hangs out with his friends, letting the world go by. At night, Charlie likes to use your dive lights to help him hunt; when he melts out of the darkness right over your shoulder, he's eleventy bajillion feet of glowing eyes, glittering scales, and bad attitude. Charlie is totally harmless to humans - but three years later, I still haven't done another night dive.

Oh - and yes, plankton really does make that noise.

* * *

><p><strong>XI. Manaan: Something Fishy<strong>

The next time Val saw Canderous, he was in the cargo hold with Mission and Zaalbar, who'd been attached at the hip since they'd left Kashyyyk. Mission had stars in her eyes as she listened to Canderous telling a story.

Val stopped short. Canderous - telling a _story_?

She ducked in to listen, but it was immediately obvious that this was no bedtime tale.

"The next time we caught up with the raiders was when we'd finally tracked them to the asteroid field they called home, near the Crispin system. They had a base in one of the bigger rocks, buried too deep to show up on any scanners, so we had to find them the hard way.

"They would use the smaller asteroids as cover for their fighters, but they were stupid enough to hide behind rocks covered in methane ice. A few laser blasts or a torpedo, and the methane would ignite, the asteroid would explode, and anything caught too close would be shredded.

"I remember one asteroid in particular. I loosed a thermal projectile at it, and it exploded, taking the three raiders using it as cover with it. But inside the asteroid was something… different. It looked like a rock, scarred and pitted from micrometeorite impacts. But it started spinning, faster and faster, and then it shot bolts of plasma in every direction. The plasma bolts melted our fighters' armor like wax. Only a few of us survived.

"We couldn't keep up with it in hyperspace, but we could follow its hyperspace wake. It took time, but we tracked it through the Unknown Regions, until its trail disappeared beyond the galactic rim. Anything that wants to commit suicide out in that great void…" He stopped and shook his head.

"Whoa," Mission gasped.

The bottom fell out of Val's stomach as she felt an overpowering sense of déjà vu. The next thing she knew, a trio of concerned faces hovered over her.

She looked up at Canderous and felt her lips move of their own accord.

"Something is coming."

* * *

><p>It should have been beautiful.<p>

Manaan was a world of oceans so blue and clear Val could see the great reefs from orbit. Ahto City, the only surface city on the planet, spread out under the sun like a three-lobed flower. Here diplomats and merchants from the Republic and the Sith Empire, along with almost every wealthy planet in the galaxy, vied with each other and with the local economy for the best prices on kolto, the miracle healing liquid.

It was said that the Selkath, the native species of Manaan, worshiped kolto.

Dread grew in the pit of her stomach the moment she stepped into the docking port.

Trying to shake the feeling, Val accompanied Carth and Bastila out of the docking bay - and into potential trouble. A Sith lieutenant, leaning against the wall and polishing his cap rim, was launching invectives at a Republic ensign as if he were reciting a shopping list. The Republic man, pale and sweating, fingers twitching near his holster, was about to lose control of himself when Val and her companions walked through the blast door.

The Sith lieutenant straightened up sharply and hurried away.

"Oh - ah, pardon me, ma'am, ma'am, sir," the Republic soldier said, returning to his post beside the door.

"What did you do?" Val whispered to Bastila.

"Me? Who says I did anything?" the younger Jedi giggled.

"Spill."

"Very well. I gave the Sith man an uncontrollable urge to… Well, let's just say that I dearly hope the nearest public refresher is a week away."

Carth burst out laughing and gave Bastila a slap on the back. "Looks like you're a bad influence on her, Val," he chuckled. Bastila turned red right up to her hairline.

There were maps of the city laid out in every hallway, but somehow the trio kept getting lost anyway. They tried asking one of the ubiquitous security drones for directions, but it simply warned them in mechanical tones that they were under constant supervision, and that if they fired their weapons inside the city, they would be taken into custody.

The problem was that everything looked the same. The breezeways, the broad atria overlooking the ocean, even the small shops and inns had been built on the same design, and all painted a lovely but monotonous pearlescent silver. It didn't help that the smell of kolto was inescapable, making Val feel constantly on the edge of being sick. They were in the most open-air city Val had ever seen, and she felt just as she had in the close darkness of the ruins under the surface of Dantooine.

They finally ran into a helpful human who gave them directions to the Republic embassy. "Oh, it's easy. You just take the north corridor to the northwest atrium, take a left into the west corridor, a right past Tyvark's, another left to the south atrium, and it's right there. Got that?"

They didn't, but they wandered around anyway. Val caught bits of conversations between small groups of moist-scaled Selkath, mostly among themselves, but sometimes including Sith or Republic soldiers.

"But what is meant by the terms 'Jedi' and 'Sith'? Don't they both worship..."

"... can we think of the justice or rightness of the war, when we don't even worry about whether beings' basic needs..."

"... that might _is_ right. Whatever forms of … serve not the citizens, but the governments…"

" … we can judge whether … an agreement about what 'light' and 'dark' really are!"

It seemed as if everyone here was preoccupied with the depths of galactic events - but Val couldn't remember having ever seen a Selkath outside of Manaan before. How could they pretend to talk so profoundly about the war and the galaxy's problems, when they never even left their own planet?

They were halfway down one of a hundred random walkways when it happened.

"Onasi? Carth Onasi?"

Val looked around and saw a stranger in Republic dress some distance behind them. Carth went to meet him, a smile on his face. They shook hands, talked together for a bit like old friends. Carth's smile was fading fast now, and the next thing Val knew, he had shoved the other man up against a wall, yelling something incomprehensible. His anger, fear, and desperate denial poured into the Force like ink spilled into water.

He threw the man to the floor and stalked off the way they'd come.

Bastila tossed a confused look toward Val and took off after him.

By the time Val made it back through the confusion of corridors and atria to the _Ebon Hawk_, Carth was gone, Bastila was arguing with Mission and Juhani, Zaalbar was moaning in frustrated anger, and Jolee was peering down a small side walkway.

"Excuse me?" someone said, barely audible over the rest of the fuss. "Excuse me!"

Val turned around, but Bastila was already striding forward to meet the small, dark man hovering near the docking port entrance.

"Can we help you?" the young Jedi asked, her face a mask of perfect composure.

"You're Jedi? Thank the gods. I've been waiting for representatives from the Republic for months. My men are breaking from the strain, I have to have replacements before something… nonnegotiable… happens. But," he said, lowering his voice, "Coruscant won't give me any details past bare need-to-know, and even the Jedi Temple say it's not their jurisdiction. I can't even reach the Dantooine enclave anymore. I've been stuck back of beyond trying to negotiate a settlement for the Republic supply of kolto, with no support and with the enemy's embassy breathing down my neck!" His voice had risen again with each complaint, until passersby began to stare.

"We're here now," Bastila offered. "What can we do to help you?"

"You can find out - " he stopped, lowered his voice, and started again. "You can find out what's happening in this place. My people aren't just going stir crazy. Some of the natives supporting us _have_ snapped. And a lot of them have simply… disappeared."

"You think the Sith are involved?" Val asked.

"Well, of course the Sith are involved! They're involved right up to their scrawny little…" he stopped again, composing himself and looking around as if he expected to find someone spying on them. But the docking areas were off-limits to the security droids.

"There is something fishy going on down in the Hrakert Rift. I've lost contact with thirty good men investigating whatever it is, and that's not including the mercenaries I've hired - out of my own pockets, no less, because the Republic cannot be seen to deal with that - " he fluttered his fingers - "riffraff."

"Can't you check up on them yourself?" Val decided she didn't much like this fellow. He had the combination of soft flab and spit-and-polish worn by a man who took his uniform more seriously than his duties.

"Young lady, I'll have you know that I am a highly placed envoy of the Republic, appointed by the Chancellor herself. My skin is far too valuable to the cause to go haring off on a wild gundark chase!"

Heavy footsteps clanged down the _Hawk_'s boarding ramp. The envoy straightened, looking past Val, and turned an unflattering shade of grey. He harrumphed something about more riffraff, spun on his heel, and marched out of the bay.

"Thanks, Canderous," Val offered without turning around.

"Any time." His footsteps were lighter as he disappeared back into the ship.

"I do not like this man," Juhani declared. "Perhaps the Force will favor us with a strong wind, and he will flutter away."

Val waited a moment, but the envoy didn't return. At some point during their conversation with the man, Jolee had disappeared. Val listened for a sense of him in the Force, and received a faint assurance that he was with Carth.

She scuffed her booted toes on an old scratch on the floor. She had a very bad feeling about this place, about the whole situation. And she and Bastila had had no visions to guide them, here.

They toured the small city of Ahto slowly, taking everything in and getting a feel for the local atmosphere. The longer they wandered, the more Val felt that something else - something neither Republic nor Sith - was at work here.

There were troubling signs, though, that the Sith were trying to gain control of the planet.

A herd of grumbling mercenaries, practically living in the local pazaak den, discontentedly watched reruns of old swoop races. Some of their number had disappeared, and there were rumors of an illegal operation far below, somewhere in the deep blue beneath the city.

Gangs of Sith officers were doing everything they dared to bait Republic soldiers into an open brawl, for which the Republic would lose the already sparse good will of the Selkath government.

Republic soldiers, a couple of HoloNet reporters, and even one famous old war hero sat chained up in the local prison awaiting trial, while the nastier Sith elements behaved oh-so-smoothly in public.

An old Selkath stood in a crosswalk, pleading with every passerby for news of his missing daughter. He swore that the Sith had coerced him into resigning his council seat, after he had voted against them once too often. But still his daughter had not been returned to him, and it seemed that no one would believe his tale of Sith wrongdoing.

* * *

><p>Val leaned against the edge of the wall and looked out towards the sea, many hundreds of meters below her, spreading out to the horizon.<p>

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?" Bastila said.

Nodding, Val brushed her hair out of her face in the breeze. It was as if the Force had created a metaphor of itself. A clouded sunset conspired with the ocean to create a moving painting of rose and silver - one that would be gone in less than an hour, but that repeated endlessly through the ages. The sea rose and fell like a living thing, the surface hiding the many smaller creatures it sheltered. Below the bustle of the city - soldiers, natives, vendors of all species and wares - there was the murmur of unceasing tides; through her feet, she could feel the swell and crash of waves meeting the pylons hundreds of meters below the city deck. Someday when Ahto was only a collection of memories and legends, the planetary ocean would still exist, an eternal dance of calm and storm.

"You know, we really need to take a break," Val suggested.

"I agree," the Jedi replied, surprising her. "We should not have to be on duty forever. A day or two of rest would not put the galaxy at risk, though leaving the fate of galactic civilization in the hands of bone-weary Jedi certainly might."

Val nodded, smiling. "We've got enough credits where everyone should be able to rent their own rooms for a night or so."

"Mm," Bastila agreed. "Now if only we can find accommodations without becoming hopelessly lost!"

They laughed together, then Bastila sent a message to everyone's comlinks, hinting that if no one got into any trouble with the various and supposedly neutral populations, they should feel free to disappear for the next forty-eight standard hours. From inside a nearby eatery, Val heard a whoop that sounded like Mission. She couldn't help laughing again.

Turning back to the ocean, she lost herself in meditation. She was vaguely aware of Bastila's departure, but nothing else intruded on her peace until Carth came to lean against the wall beside her.

"So we finally get a couple days off, eh?"

Val smiled. "We're all tired. We need it - we've _earned_ it."

Nodding, Carth looked out to the rapidly fading sunset. "I'm leaving, Val. Not - not for good, but for a little while. Don't know if I'll be back before you all leave Manaan, but I've uploaded the Star Map information into my datapad. Coded, of course, so you don't need to worry. "

"I'm not worried about you giving out or losing our information, as much as I'm worried about _you_. What's going on, Carth? Who was that man you spoke to when we arrived?"

"He - well, he's an old friend from the war. Was an old friend. I don't know if I can trust him anymore, after what he told me."

_Trust issues again_, Val thought impatiently. _The whole universe, just waiting for him to lower his guard._

Carth sighed, running his fingers through his short, windblown hair. "Dustil - my son - may be alive. From what my, ah, my _friend_ said about where he'd seen him, I'd almost prefer him to be… Damn it, I just have to know. I won't be any good to you again until I find out, one way or another."

She touched his shoulder, felt him tense, then relax. "Okay. If you feel like there's something else calling you, then maybe you have to follow it. I know I'm probably supposed to talk you into doing your duty, play the good Republic officer - but honestly, if someone came up to me and told me I had long-lost family from, you know, before, I'd jump at the chance to find them."

"I - wow. I thought, since you'd gone Jedi - well, I'm sorry for what I thought."

A giggle bubbled up inside her. "You thought I was going to turn into Bastila, didn't you?" She chuckled until tears spilled over her cheeks. "Oh, stars, Carth, you have no idea - "

He started laughing, too, and a spark of mischief danced in his eyes. "I wouldn't go that far, Val. I've got eyes, you know, and Canderous is - well, I never figured I'd have reason to call a Mandalorian a good man. But don't worry - Bastila won't get anything out of me. Not even under torture."

Laughter froze inside her throat.

"Val? You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Yeah. You go ahead and do whatever you need to do, Carth. Take someone with you - maybe Mission and Zaalbar, or whoever."

"Jolee's coming with me. Val, you look like you've just seen a wraith - you sure nothing's wrong? Hey, I'm telling you, if this is just a fancy way to guilt me into staying," he started to joke -

"No. Just - I felt something weird in the Force, that's all."

"A premonition? You think something's going to happen?"

"Honestly, we - Bastila and I - have been catching this feeling a lot ever since we came out of hyperspace. I think Jolee and Juhani have felt it, too. Something's clouding the Force in this system, something right here on Manaan."

"What, another one of those Teren-whats-its?"

"No, not outright evil like that monster. But it really might be a good idea for you and Jolee to get out of the system, sort of keep an eye on events. If something happened out there, I don't know if Bastila, Juhani, or I would even be able to sense it."

Carth smiled at her. "Look, you - you be careful, Val. I'd hate to lose you, just when I'd started to like you."

Grinning, she ducked her head. "You too, Carth." Their handshake became a warm hug. "And tell Jolee not to get into _too_ much trouble!"

She watched him go until a tall shadow stopped beside her. Smiling up at Canderous, Val turned and leaned on the railing again to look out over the ocean. She didn't know why, but she couldn't get enough of the view. Peaceful, other than the line of storm clouds on the horizon, especially now that the stars were slowly coming out. Canderous' arms circled around her; she leaned back into him and sighed.

"So what was that all about?" he asked. "Should I be jealous?"

"Ha! Sure, you know, he offered to sweep me off to some remote tropical paradise planet and feed me nothing but sugary confections and bubbly drinks."

Silence.

"Oh, grow a sense of humor, Canderous, he's really not my type."

"Yeah? So what is your type?"

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, thinking. There were no cute, convenient metaphors for him; the Mandalorian was exactly what he appeared to be. No soft core hiding beneath the hard armor, no secret heart of gold just waiting for the right woman. He was what he was - a dangerously proficient mercenary, driven by a battle-centered code of honor utterly at odds with Republic culture. She was both baffled by and completely at home with her own attraction to him.

"Well, I like a man who can wear Mandalorian armor without looking like an idiot." She felt his silent laughter against her back. "And I'm particularly attracted to a guy whose idea of seduction involves a heavy repeater."

His breath was warm as his lips began to trace maddening lines down her neck. She shivered in delight, before turning around to look at Canderous. Her hands traced the lines weathering his face. "You are who you are. You don't try to hide the fact that you're Mandalorian, you don't make excuses for being capable of violence, and you're not ashamed of it. And you're _here_. I mean, with me."

"Zaalbar came with you too, I don't see you with Wookiee fur in unusual places."

Val shook that unfortunate image out of her head. "I don't mean just along for the ride, or on your own little crusade to save the galaxy. You just… you don't have an ulterior motive for being with me."

"Sure I do - oldest ulterior motive in the book."

She shoved him playfully. "Shut up, you. You know what I - "

He kissed her hungrily, erasing all the thoughts of what she wanted to say. "Do you need a reason that I'm with you, Val? Or are you just looking for an excuse to be with me? I'm not exactly what your run-of-the-galaxy Jedi might look for in a mate - if they looked. Which they don't."

"Wow. Nice way of sidestepping a question I wasn't actually asking. Is there something we need to talk about?" She tried to pull away, but he kept his arms circled tight around her.

"That depends on you. If your plans involve getting through this thing, then going our separate ways, then no - we don't need to spill our hearts out to each other, or any of that romantic crap. If your plans involve bearing my children - "

"_Excuse me?_"

She felt him take a slow breath; his embrace dropped away. "Well, then, there's nothing we need to talk about."

Val drew on the Force to calm herself. "Okay. I'll bite. What if my plans did involve… settling down? Do I get an armored apron? Am I expected to go into battle with a frying pan?"

"What are you talking about, woman?"

"I've seen a lot of Mandalorians, but I've never seen a Mandalorian woman."

"What, you thought they wore form-fitting armor? Did you expect nipples on their breastplates, or little flowers on their helmets?"

"No, but - "

"That's the problem with _aruetiise_ - so few of them realize how dangerous women truly are. Just because our armor doesn't advertize gender, that doesn't mean our women don't fight. You've probably seen _Mando'a_ women, you just assumed they were men."

"Oh. I…"

He surprised her with a smile. "Don't apologize. The women I grew up with would be happy to know that even _jetiise_ couldn't tell the difference." He frowned. "When have you seen a lot of _Mando'ade_?"

"What?"

"You said you'd seen a lot of Mandalorians. When?"

Val thought. "Um. I don't know. I just… remember seeing them. Kind of like even though I don't remember anything from before, I still know what everything is. I didn't have to relearn how to walk or talk or read, I just don't remember when I did learn."

Canderous looked out at the sky. "Storm's on its way. I've already rented us some quarters. Let's go."

The made it into their tiny room just before the clouds broke. Val started to help Canderous with his armor, but his grey eyes were still troubled.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He pulled her hands away from his chest and kissed them. "Don't worry, Val."

"Okay, now I am worried. What are you thinking about?"

He smiled and kissed her. "I'm thinking about you," he said in a low, suggestive voice. "I'm always thinking about you. You tend to have that effect on me."

She pulled away. "Pretend I'm not having that effect. Talk to me."

He scowled. "We talked earlier. That didn't turn out too well. Val, let's just... forget about it."

Val sighed and turned away. "Is it because of what I said? You kind of took me by surprise, you know, talking about having kids."

"You don't want that kind of life. I understand, Val - don't start this again."

"I never said I didn't want a family! _Haar'chak_, Canderous - I don't even know if I already have one somewhere, waiting - worrying - _fierfek_, am I already married?"

"You're cursing in _Mando'a_."

"Oh. Sorry."

He took her hand again and kissed the palm. "Don't be. I like it."

"Stop trying to sidetrack me!" She couldn't help laughing.

Canderous tugged her close, her body not quite melding with his hard armor. It was still warm from the sun, and she wanted to sink into it. "All right," he growled. "What _do_ you want?"

"I don't know."

"That's a start." He kissed her again, his tongue gentle on hers as she gave way. "Say we get through this in one piece. Bells and medals and the whole galaxy loves us. What then?"

Her hands were roaming over his armor, finding the latches and hooks, finding his arms and chest as his _beskar'gam_ hit the floor. "Maybe... I'd like to stay with you. For a while, at least. Maybe longer." His fingers unlaced her tunic, found the sensitive underside of her breasts, his thumbs stroking over her nipples. He licked and nipped at her neck, making her moan and gasp. "Now you - spill. What do you want out of - this - us - everything?"

"Just you, Val - for as long as I can have you."

The blue lightsaber burned bright in his thoughts again, but this time Val saw herself at the other end, smiling, holding out her hand to him.

They enjoyed each other thoroughly that night. No Jedi babysitters, no nosy blue teenage girls, no demented old men. Rain thundered on the roof of their cabin, lightning sparking the air with an electric sizzle.

The quiet after the storm should have been soothing, but Val found herself awake, listening to Canderous' soft snores.

What would she really do, if she survived it all? If they survived it together?

_I trusted you!_ she heard someone say, as she finally slipped into sleep.

* * *

><p>Some not-quite-legal maneuvering had gotten them a barely workable environment suit. Why an ocean world like Manaan didn't have a stock of deep-diving suits designed for off-world tourists stumped Val. Instead, she was left to clomp through an out-of-the-way airlock wearing something that looked more suited to the exterior of a space station.<p>

The suit was fitted with a couple of high powered waterproof lights, a heads-up mapping display, and a sonic emitter in case she attracted the attention of any of the local population of firaxa sharks. She'd seen a couple, circling just outside the large viewports of the hidden complex on the sea floor - they had seemed attracted to the _things_ Val had found crawling around the blood-stained complex halls. Things that had once been Selkath.

She didn't want to think about them.

Only one non-Selkath had survived the catastrophe, a man who had sealed himself inside an armory locker, whimpering more to himself than to Val about the crazy fishies walking around. As far as she knew, he was still locked inside his chosen cage.

She struggled into the clumsy suit. That had been part of a secret agreement with the Ambassador Roland, that only Valena could be allowed to explore the base. Few if any of the Manaan officials even knew such a base existed.

The airlock door squealed and thumped as something in the complex tried to pound its way in. Val left the helmet on the bench and hobbled over to the control panel. Thumbing the sonic emitter button, she pressed the green light on the door panel.

A bare moment after the blast door hissed open, Val squeezed the thumb control in her hand. The gurgling of an insane Selkath turned into a scream, and then silence as the poor creature slumped - dead or nearly so - blue blood bubbling from its ruptured aural membranes.

Val shoved the body out of the way with one heavily booted foot before closing the hatch again. She struggled with the helmet - not quite a space suit, but nearly so - then hit the opposite panel, allowing water into the chamber.

No one had told her what to expect.

She focused on an old Jedi breathing technique to calm herself as the cold seawater rose quickly past her legs, hitting her like a punch in the gut when the freezing water reached her midsection. She fought the urge to hold her breath as the water level rose over the helmet.

If there were heating controls on this suit, she hadn't been able to find them. Breathing deeply, Val concentrated on raising her core temperature. The cold became comfortable, but her shivering didn't go away. It took an effort of will to open the airlock exit.

Dark - not even the suit's lighting system could penetrate very far. She was in a short tunnel, she could see that much as the lights hit the corroded steelcrete of the walls. There was a square of slightly-less-black a few meters away. And then she reached the end of the tunnel, and she stopped.

No one had told her what to expect.

Around her, all around her, there were lights. Like stars, but flickering in and out like the buzzflits that lit up the Dantooine night. Close in, she could see tiny, reddish shrimplike creatures dancing in front of her helmet lights; their shadows created weirdly shifting patches of deeper black against the curtain of visibility. And farther away, fading away as if only partly in existence, mountainous coral beds that shimmered with their own, almost hallucinatory, lights.

The heads-up map flickered on, a glyph blinking blue in the middle of the contoured landscape. She tapped the wrist controls to minimize it to the bottom right corner of her faceplate. As she did so, she also tapped the button allowing external sound to filter in. There was an eerie popping and crackling, but it didn't seem to be a flaw in the sound system; it almost seemed to run in time with the dancing lights around her.

She started down the path winding through the coral heads, taking time to stop and marvel at this alien landscape. Someday, she promised, she would come back to Manaan, back to this undersea park - someday when the galaxy wasn't torn by war and she wasn't on a desperate mission to find out what was slowly driving the native Selkath mad. Whatever it was, it was the reason she and Bastila had no guidance from a silent Force.

Living monuments of coral rose up all around her, dissolving into shadowy nothingness at the fringe of her lights. She peered into an enormous bowl sponge, and was delighted when a colony of tiny, shining eyes peered back at her. Sometimes she discovered fish, sleeping open-eyed, inside coral pockets, their bright colors muted, their gills barely moving. She wondered what fish dreamed about.

Eventually, though, as she shuffled nearly weightless beneath coral tunnels and shadowed overhangs, the dark began playing tricks with her mind.

Something was watching her.

The lights of the tiny creatures never varied in their dancing, but that dance somehow became sinister, a thousand tiny eyes flittering through the water, waiting for the darkness to shrug off the helmet lights and scuttle in to claim her. And the crackle-popping that was the sound of the star-sparkle suddenly seemed to rush in and out in time with her own breath - which in turn tuned itself to the hum of the softly surging water around her. The ocean itself was breathing.

It was gloriously beautiful. Val couldn't remember a time when she had been more afraid.

* * *

><p>It was two days before the landing on Manaan.<p>

"I told you, _nothing's_ wrong with you."

"Then why am I always so scared of stuff like that?"

Valena and Canderous were sitting at the small table in the galley. Canderous had been holding her hand, tracing the small lines on her skin and making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, before their discussion started.

She had wanted to keep their relationship a secret - a Jedi with a close companion was one thing, but a Jedi attached to _the enemy_ was on a completely different level of wrong. Jolee simply winked at them, though, and Bastila was far too busy mangling her words whenever either Carth or Juhani were in the same room. Carth politely pretended to be oblivious; and as for Juhani, Val hadn't been able to figure her out yet - but she was coming to a few conclusions of her own, based on the fact that the Cathar woman had become Bastila's shadow.

Mission thought the whole thing was just too funny. Val wasn't sure she disagreed.

"What, afraid of going into dark, enclosed spaces?"

"Yes! If nothing's wrong with me, then why should that scare me?"

"Let me tell you something. Anyone who won't admit that he's ready to lose his _epan_ when he's well into it, he's the one you watch out for."

"How sweet of you to say that."

He growled. "I knew a man once. Had his _bes'uliik_ nearly shot out from under him. He spent three days drifting in space before they found him. After that, he retired his armor, went back to Mandalore, and became a farmer. Never would go into battle again, and he swore by the Manda that no one would ever be able to drag him into space again. Made his family promise to bury him without cremation, so he'd be secure."

"I can kind of see where he's coming from. And you're saying he was perfectly normal?"

"He was _dar'manda_. Lost his spirit. But at least he was honest enough to admit it. Another man I flew with pretended to courage, and got his entire squadron killed. Those that stayed with him, at least."

Val tried to pull her hand away. "Look, thanks for the pep talk and all, but…"

"Shut up and listen to me, _mesh'la_. The difference between you and those two _di'kute_ is this: You know you're scared, you admit it, and you keep going anyway. Real _gett'se_ isn't walking away from the fight, and it's not pretending not to be afraid. It's doing your job, even if you have to change your pants afterwards."

He pulled her over to him, tumbled her into his lap. "Woman, the only thing wrong with you is that you're not officially Mandalorian."

* * *

><p>She was definitely going to have to change her pants after this.<p>

Val shut her eyes, concentrated on slowing her heart and respiration. She touched the Force, let it fill her with its need.

Its _need_? Her eyes opened. Since when did the Force need anything?

Around her the black water deepened with shadows cruising through the tiny living stars. She forced her breathing to slow again, but made sure her hand was secure on the sonic trigger. Closing her eyes, Val focused again on the feeling of need.

_Kill._

She nearly triggered the sonic weapon.

_From above._

"Kill what? Above you?"

_Above. Kill._

"You want me to kill something above you?"

_I / we kill. Above. I / we die. Below._

"Something from up above is killing you, so you're trying to kill it back."

_Anger / pain / fear / hate!_

"Wait - wait!"

More shadows swam around her. She let her eyes open, was surprised that she no longer felt fear. The fear was outside of her now, swimming silently past, circling around, eyes and scales shimmering yellow in her helmet lights.

Firaxa sharks. Dozens of them. Hundreds.

_Help / aid / kill. Not us._

"You want me to help you, kill something that's not you."

_Save the Source._

An image that was also a feeling formed in her mind. She was very close to whatever the image represented, she could sense that much. It was - something that seeped up from deep below the sea floor, something that caused the corals to bloom and the shimmering lights to dance at night. It was the source of life for the deep water plankton, which in turn gave life to larger fish, all the way up to the great firaxa circling her.

_Above. Killing us. Taking the Source._

"Oh. Oh, no. It's kolto, isn't it? The Selkath harvest the kolto, but they're taking too much of it - that's it, isn't it? With the war on, they're trying to profit from both sides, and that leaves you with no food."

_I / we kill. I / we drive mad. Above will die. We will live. Hope / regret. Only way._

"No. Not the only way."

Val called up the helmet mapping display. She hadn't understood the import of the glyph at the center, but now she was pretty sure she knew what it represented. She felt for it in her mind, showed it to the minds surrounding her. "This is what's stealing your Source?"

_Agreement / affirmation._

"I think I know how to help you."

Even though she couldn't remember her childhood or her schooling, she knew she had learned at some point about deep water vents, and the life systems that formed around them. But she didn't think any of those forgotten lessons had included the idea that what the vents spewed out could ever be used as more than an ecological energy source. Or maybe it was just Manaan that produced truly life-giving energy.

Kolto - that miracle of modern medicine. It could turn a deep gash into a simple scar in less than a day. In a time of war, it became the most important resource in the galaxy, but there was never enough for everyone. And there was only one Source.

Following the map, she found the mining platform, its drill thankfully idle.

"You might want to get well away from this," she warned. The presences around her and in her mind withdrew.

Her lightsaber was back in the inner airlock, along with the rest of her gear. Hopefully none of the crazy Selkath had decided to eat it or anything. She couldn't use the sonic emitter on the drill or pump, either; its shielding protected it from sonic damage, and the aural blast would be deadly to everything around her.

But a Jedi was never without a weapon, as long as she had the Force. She guided her mind along the giant hinges, connectors, hidden bundles of wiring. She discovered tiny fractures in the permasteel housing; these she ruptured with the Force, letting the corrosive seawater in. Every weak place in the wiring she ripped into, doing in a few moments what nature would have taken years to accomplish. Hinges and attachments groaned and cracked. The giant umbilical power source decoupled, rusting over in a matter of moments. The pump was holed, bits drifting off to disappear into the dark.

When she was done, what was left of the kolto mining machinery was a pile of rubble and useless, twisted hoses.

_Satisfaction / good hunt._

"You'll stop driving the Selkath crazy now?"

_Affirmation. Children / siblings. Kill them / kill us._

"Killing them would be the same as killing yourselves, you mean. Maybe you should be the diplomat here."

The silt was slowly clearing away. Shadows around her disappeared as the school of firaxa cruised off. She breathed deeply again, happy to finally be alone with her own -

An enormous blackness slowly blocked out the shimmering plankton lights. Val looked up - and up - catching green-gold reflections of herself in giant scales, until she met the largest eye she had ever seen. It shone like a vast green moon in the night sea. The edges of huge, triangular teeth glimmered.

Certainly no one had told her to expect this.

_Thanks / appreciation / forgiveness._

"Uhh. Yeah. It was, uh, my pleasure."

_I / we go. Children / siblings live. You no longer fear._

It was both a farewell and a command. And as suddenly as the mother of all sharks vanished, Val knew where to find the next Star Map. It was only a few meters away, sheltered under an ancient-looking obsidian idol bare of any coral growths. The night sea was still a breathing blackness that unnerved her, but the paralyzing terror had eased. She activated the HUD data retrieval system, then watched the Star Map display.

It was almost as beautiful as the undersea night.


	12. The Source of All Evil

**A/N:** From here on out, the story gets steadily more AU. Things will happen towards (mostly) the same ends, but in rather different ways. This story will also become more dark as the chapters go on. No more flowers and rainbows, folks. I won't give any specific warnings, but seriously: if you don't do well with unhappy tales, you might want to bail now.

Those who want to see this through: Thank you! And hang on to your helmets.

* * *

><p><strong>XII. The Source of All Evil<strong>

It wasn't a trial, at least not by normal Republic standards. More like a public airing of dirty laundry, with a trio of judges to keep order and make an occasional ruling.

"You _what?_"

Val returned the glare. "Don't blame the others for this, Ambassador Roland. And don't blame me, either. I just did what was necessary."

"Necessary! Without that mining station, without that kolto, we won't have the troops we need to continue the war!" He spat the information through his teeth. Manaan law prevented keeping relevant information classified at these sessions, and he was obviously furious at the possibility of losing his position once the Republic got wind of this.

A Selkath judge banged his gavel, trying to restore order. The angry muttering from the gallery died down.

"Neither will the Sith."

"Now you listen to me, young lady. I'm sure you're just full of Jedi rhetoric and bluster about the evils of war, but the Sith keep coming, and it's not just because of the kolto! Their movement is attracting more adherents every day, and peace and love don't stand up to their lightsabers!"

"Then maybe you should be examining their message, Ambassador. The Selkath certainly have been, but there are cultural differences, as I'm sure you've noticed." She motioned around the courtroom. "That's where you come in, though, isn't it? Find out what compels their supporters, and create an alternative message. Do your job. Otherwise, it's just strength versus strength, and the Republic can't win that kind of fight."

"I object to this sort of leading rhetoric!" the Sith ambassador yelled. "We have always been honest with your folk, Your Honors!"

The gallery erupted with laughter and angry, bubbling snarls. The Sith ambassador had barely retained his standing in the court after holos of kidnapped Selkath youth had been presented. This lie was, apparently, the last straw. The judges motioned for the armed bailiffs, who removed the representative.

Beside her, Bastila cleared her throat. "Ambassador, you have followed the Sunry trial?"

The small man blinked perpetually moist eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Perhaps more than you think. Yesterday we held the deciding session; Sunry is an old friend of one of our team, and the Selkath allowed me to replace his former defender, who was something less than devoted."

"_That's_ what you did with your time off?" Val whispered to her.

"Of course," she replied smoothly. "What did you do?"

Val blushed and stammered, but Bastila turned back to the ambassador. "I convinced the court to find Sunry not guilty. Of course, he did kill that woman - but legally, it was self defense. You would likely say he was only doing his duty as a Republic citizen - after all, his 'sweetheart' was a Sith spy. Some people have an appalling lack of taste, you know."

The gallery remained quiet this time, all eyes on Ambassador Roland.

"A spy. Why was I never informed? How could the Selkath have missed that?"

Bastila pursed her lips. "A stellar former defense attorney, shall we say. Possibly a conflict of interests, as well - since Manaan was on the verge of expelling the Republic."

The judges' bored expressions turned to stone.

"A bit less recrimination is due to Jedi Retee, Your Honors - and, Ambassador Roland, perhaps a bit more gratitude from you that the Sith will not obtain any new kolto now, either. And - provided you show the intelligence and courage that Republic envoys are widely known for - you may draw the Selkath into a true alliance with the Republic."

Whispers from the crowd, and one judge spoke softly towards another, the third giving something like a very slow nod.

"B-but there's no more kolto."

Val smiled. "Kolto is a renewable resource. Not to mention a religious matter for the traditionalists. Use your contacts. Spread the word. A Jedi met the Old One, and lived to tell the tale. It's _spiritual_ evidence, not physical, that will get you the alliance you need. Maybe you can convince the Selkath where their loyalties should lie."

The trial lasted well into the evening, with Sith supporters slowly being rooted out of the audience, and the government. By the end of it, Val and Bastila had agreed to try to bring back the missing Selkath citizens, presumed to be those maddened individuals haunting the Hrakert Rift base.

* * *

><p>It was supposed to be a rescue run for what might be left in the secret base. Now that the Manaan council had publicly acknowledged that they knew what was down there, they wanted to save as much of it as possible. Val had only done what was necessary on her first trip down, but she hated the sight of the lightsaber-scorched Selkath bodies.<p>

She hoped there were some still alive. The huge, ancient Guardian had ceased its mental punishment against its rebellious children; maybe some would have survived and regained their sanity.

But when she, Mission, and Zaalbar found the pile of bodies in the central chamber, that hope disappeared. Lightsaber burns all looked the same, no matter which weapon was used; but Val knew that she hadn't done _this_.

Shadows flitted at the corners of her vision.

"Hey, Val? I got a really bad feeling about this."

What had she been thinking, bringing Mission down here? Oh, of course. Rescuing people would be good for Zaalbar, help his damaged psyche heal. And naturally, wherever "Big Z" went, Mission came as well.

It was a good thing their whole company was along for this one. Bastila had teamed up with Juhani, while Canderous and the droids were off looking for whatever mayhem might be left.

Val's comlink beeped. "_Valena, be on your guard. There is a deep disturbance in the Force. I sense that you are its target. We will be there as soon as we can._"

Another beep. "_We're coming, Val. Stay alert, keep your weapons loaded and lit._"

Canderous always was full of helpful ideas, she thought sardonically. HK probably adored him - or would have, if droids could love.

Zaalbar stepped in front of Mission, but Val noticed that he didn't stand so as to block any shots she might make with the outsized bowcaster. The Wookiee had chosen to wield the ceremonial Bacca's Blade, and it wasn't just for show. The hardened cortosis-alloy sword could slice through nearly anything, and stand up to a lightsaber to boot.

_I know you._

Val couldn't tell if it was her own thought, or someone else's. Either way, her mind was filled with a sense of both familiarity and dread. Not dread of the dark room - funny, ever since her encounter with the giant firaxa, she had felt only occasional twinges of her old claustrophobia. Like she had defeated an old enemy, or had been healed of an old wound.

No, she dreaded _this_, whatever it was, whatever was about to reveal itself. A master of Force illusions, she had no doubt. Probably the same Sith apprentice from Kashyyyk - but she was prepared for his tricks, this time.

She pulled her awareness back into her own skull, and considered.

"Mission, Zaalbar," she whispered. "Whatever you see - whatever you feel - don't trust it. Even if you see me hurt or killed, don't trust _anything_ your senses tell you until we're out of this and back on the _Hawk_. Got it?"

"So you're _not_ really a powerful Jedi with a funny taste in men?" Mission grinned.

Val smiled back gently. "I want you to know ahead of time: I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. You're going to be really scared soon. Use that sense of humor to fight it."

The girl shrugged, smiling at Zaalbar. "What's there to be afraid of?"

"Me - if I do this right."

The shadows thickened. Zaalbar growled softly, and Mission lost her impish smile.

_Weak. Pathetic. You gave it all up._

Winking at Mission, Val walked forward as the shadows wrapped themselves around her. Her lightsaber hissed out, its blue glow forcing the blackness back. "I don't know what you're talking about. What did I give up?"

A red blade sprang out to match hers. _Blind as well. It will be satisfying to kill you, traitor._

The shadows raced around her confusingly, then coalesced a short distance away from her. The Sith warrior sprang towards her, but she was ready. She blocked his first blow, then threw him back with a pulse of the Force. He landed agilely on his feet, black robes swirling amid the shadows he gathered around him, and came at her again.

All the fear she'd felt underground on Dantooine, the horror on Kashyyyk, terror as icy as the waters of Hrakert Rift - she called it up and poured it into the Force, her lightsaber flashing and roaring, locked against the red Sith blade.

Shadows trembled, then rose up again. Val pushed harder, beating apart his illusions as she beat back his lightsaber.

Mission screamed. Zaalbar huddled over her, moaning and braying.

The shadows faltered, fell. A lone figure stood, dressed in black, clutching its head as its lightsaber clattered on the floor like a broken toy. "No - Master - I never - I didn't mean - "

Val ripped the scene her fear had called up from his mind - what he had meant to do to them. She turned it this way and that, examining it as she would an alien artifact. "But you did. And you'll do it again, won't you, Darth Bandon?"

"No, I - "

"You don't even deserve the title _Darth_. Or the name. Who are you, under those ridiculous black rags?"

"I - my name is - "

"No. You don't have a name." Val was exhilarated. Her control in the Force had grown; she had never experienced anything like this, and was oddly disappointed that it would end soon. "You don't have a past. You are no one. You are nothing." Bit by bit, she stripped the young man's past out of his mind, finding all his hidden sins and guilty fears and showing them to him before taking it all away.

When it was over, he was left in a shivering heap, sobbing quietly.

Bastila ran in, breathless, and skidded to a stop.

The former Sith reached out to her. "Mother? Mother, why is it so dark in here?"

Her eyes wide, she looked at Val in horror. "By the Force. What have you done?"

Val relaxed, let the Force slip out of her grasp with a sigh. Shadows fell away like tired rag dolls, letting the blue light filter in from the ocean viewports to join the gleam from her blade.

Firaxas circled, waiting.

She caught herself against the wall, slid down till she was sitting on the floor. "He was going to kill us. Not immediately, but..." She looked at Bastila. "He thought I was you."

Bastila stared. "You're lying," she snarled. Why are you lying to me, Valena?"

She sighed again. "Because I don't know what the truth of his thoughts meant. Although something tells me that you do." Val stared at Bastila. The younger Jedi's angry gaze finally wavered, shifted away.

She looked around. Mission was hiding behind Zaalbar, who looked about ready to rip into Val. Canderous was there, too; but he wasn't looking at her, he was giving mercy to what was left of Darth Bandon. Juhani paced like a caged predator.

"Statement: Excellent use of Jedi skills, according to my assassination protocols."

"_Dwooo._"

* * *

><p>"I wouldn't expect a <em>Mandalorian<em> to understand why what Valena did was so wrong."

Val lay on her bunk in the _Hawk_, huddled around the tangled knot of guilt and anger in her chest, and listened to the strains of argument drifting in from the main hold.

"I wouldn't expect a Jedi brat to understand the difference between reality and a pretty fable. She did what she had to. Lay off her."

"_Had_ to? Since when did mental rape become one of the necessities of life?"

Canderous laughed. "A Jedi? Complaining about messing with people's heads? How many times have you destroyed someone's mind, princess?"

"Never! That is not one of my... skills."

A sigh. Feet shuffling, or perhaps an arm leaning on a bulkhead. "Did you even talk to Mission? Do you have any idea what that thing was about to do to them?"

"That _thing_? And here I thought you admired the Sith. You mean you don't carry a red lightsaber in your fondest dreams?"

"What was I thinking. I expected to talk to a grown-up. Instead I'm arguing with a girl who's still afraid of monsters under the bed."

"In _your_ bed, you mean."

"Jealous? Want some tips to get Onasi to put out? Or were you planning on a threesome with - "

The sound of a stinging slap, followed by light footsteps not-quite-running away.

Val thought about the conversation. Mental rape, Bastila had called it. She couldn't really disagree. But it was the only way Val could think to save them - to save young Mission, and Zaalbar, and herself. Act on instinct, the Jedi always said. She had - and she'd do it all over again, and screw the guilt.

Back on Kashyyyk, Darth Bandon had used the same tricks to make her think Jolee was dead - had almost made her walk off the edge into - _The Wookiees say if you step off the edge you'll fall for years._

She had to be honest with herself, though. Bandon's death hadn't been the only time she'd used illusions to fight. The Terentatek - she'd used a weaker form of the same dark side magic Darth Bandon had intended to rip Val's mind apart with. He was a Sith, though - and she'd only been defending herself against a dark side monster.

_And when you did the same thing to Canderous?_ that little voice in her head asked. _Was that really to save your life? Or to manipulate him into doing what you so wanted him to do?_

_He had wanted it too!_ she cried back. That time in the cargo hold - there had been no manipulation there -

_Now how do you get out of this one?_ he'd challenged her. And she deliberately did something he hadn't expected.

She'd been manipulating Canderous even then. For the first time since she woke up on Taris, Valena was scared down to her bones. It wasn't the Sith she needed to be on her guard against - it was herself. The Jedi were right, had been right all this time. Relationships, attachments, desire - the Force could twist everything that normal people took for granted into something dark, and if a Jedi didn't watch where she was going, she would fall for years.

Except it wasn't the Force twisting everything. Val was the one using the Force to manipulate, to twist, to tear apart, to kill. She could have simply run when the Terentatek's death spell drove Canderous mad, run until he regained his sanity.

And then he would have simply remained the strange, silent Mandalorian haunting the ship, and she would have remained the tired, lonely Jedi trying to do the impossible.

"Have you not yet learned the dangers of making a Jedi truly angry?"

Juhani's voice coming from the hold snapped Val out of her guilty reverie.

"That wasn't anger - that was a little girl's temper tantrum."

"I was not speaking of her. I would ask you to, as you put it, lay off her."

"Why is Bastila Shan so important to you, kitten?"

After a quiet moment: "Did I ever tell you that I saw her once? Many years ago."

"Bastila?"

"No. Revan - when she was still a Jedi, still just a girl. Did I ever tell you that she saved my life?"

"Is that why you're here, carrying a lightsaber of your own?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it was because after Revan and her lover departed Taris, the world fell back into the hands of the same evil men who had destroyed my family. And please do not tell me that we were _weak_. We were not weak - we had been broken. Yes, you know what that is like, I think. And even the few Jedi who defied the Council on our behalf - they did _nothing_, once the threat from your filthy people was gone. That is why I became one of them: to seek the justice they had denied me."

"Kitten, I wouldn't dream of calling you weak."

"I have fallen, and I have been redeemed. You know what it is to love, Mandalorian, though you hide it well. All I wish now is to catch Bastila when she falls. With her power, to fall would be a terrible thing."

_She's right_, that little voice in Val's mind whispered. _She would make a miserable Sith._

* * *

><p><em>They called you "the Revanchist," the reuniter. They thought you held a broken galaxy in a healer's hand, but instead it was an iron fist.<em>

Val was dreaming. Only it wasn't her own dream, it was Bastila's. She wanted to reach out to the girl, beg her to hear her, to understand and forgive her. She kept trying to do what she thought was right, but everything turned out wrong, twisted. Maybe they should just go back to Dantooine.

_You never knew me, even when you were still a Jedi. But I thought of you as a role model, a hero._

A yellow lightsaber blazed with all the fury of the Tatooine suns. Another red one sprang to meet it. Val wanted to run to Bastila's aid, fight the masked Sith Lord that threatened her friend. But she was frozen. She couldn't even scream.

_I think perhaps I loved you. A silly girl's dreams._

The yellow lightsaber danced, but the red one met every blow with a flourishing parry. The deadly dance was nearly matched, but Val knew, in the way of dreams, that Bastila would fall. It didn't matter that this was a dream - she couldn't bear to watch a friend die.

Maybe it was the strength of her hope, maybe it was simply the meaninglessness of dreams, but there was a tremendous jolt, almost strong enough to wake her up, as the ship took a massive hit. A sensor bank exploded, and the black-cloaked Sith Lord fell to the deck, robes and torn flesh aflame.

Bastila turned to face Val. _Take off the mask. Take off Revan's mask, Valena. Tell me what you see._

Now, when she didn't want to move, when she wanted to run away from this, she found herself stepping forward, her hand reaching for the ugly, black, half-melted thing.

Beneath the mask was empty space. Bastila began to laugh as Val felt herself fall in, as if she were being sucked into a black hole.

Another jolt, this time tumbling Val from her bunk, wide-eyed and awake. Somehow the dream had blended with reality, and the Force was screaming with danger. She threw on her clothes and ran full out for the cockpit, the nightmare already fading from her waking mind.

Halfway there, she ran into Bastila. The Jedi didn't even blink when she saw Val. "It's the Leviathan. We're under attack."

* * *

><p>Zaalbar cut out the sublight engines before they could suffer a burnout. Onasi had asked him to take over as pilot when he'd left, since the Wookiee had acknowledged that he could handle the ship. He didn't know what kind of maneuvers they taught in the Republic military: perhaps Onasi could have somehow evaded the menacing ship's tractor beam; but Zaalbar was only a fair pilot, not a genius.<p>

In the copilot's seat was the Mandalorian. Zaalbar eyed him. He growled a question about Carth's history with this "Admiral Karath," and a suggestion about how they should greet the man; a translation scrolled across the copilot computer screen.

Canderous glanced back, grim approval in the lines of his face.

The jaws of the _Leviathan_ closed around them. The cockpit controls went black.

"_Oya_," Canderous growled. "Time to hunt."


	13. The Leviathan: Capture

**A/N:** This is a fairly short chapter. I promise, the next chapter brings the good stuff. On my end, I'm just wrapping up ch. 18, working faster as I get to the end. Most of the dialogue in the torture scene comes from the game, though of course there are changes due to a certain dashing pilot being absent from the story at this point.

Thank you to everyone for all the lovely reviews! I had no idea, when I started posting, that I'd get this much love for this story. I've been working on this beast, on and off, since I first finished the two games. I'll let you do the math on that. This has been a very long time in the writing, and I'm thrilled that you guys like it so much. *hugs to everyone!*

* * *

><p><strong>XIII. The Leviathan: Capture<strong>

"We need to decide how we're going to get out of this," Val declared, "since it looks like we're all about to be captured by the Sith." The _Hawk_'s emergency power was still running, but it wouldn't be long before the holodisplay - a chart of the Leviathan's deck plan that T3 had somehow produced - would flicker out. "Someone's going to have to stay behind to save our skins."

For a second, Val was sure Mission was going to jump in, but she looked at Zaalbar, then shook her head. "Not me, no sir. But if someone wants to borrow my nifty stealth shield - "

"I will do it," Juhani said. "There are ways to stay hidden, both to the eyes and in the Force, that I learned in my exile on Dantooine. But," she added, smiling at Mission, "I would welcome any… niftiness you have stashed away, my friend."

"There's more than one way to shave a Wookiee," Canderous put in. "No offense, Zaalbar." The big Wookiee huffed something that sounded like a laugh. "Besides, I've never seen the inside of a force cage, and I'm not about to break my record. Juhani, I'm your backup."

"Admiral Karath might not know how many of us are on board. Valena, you will stay with me. We'll be the ones that Karath will want to question, and we'll have to help each other if we wish to come through this alive... and unbroken."

"I guess that leaves all the rest of us to play rancors in distress," Mission quipped.

Zaalbar complained to her that rancors weren't known for being in distress.

"Duh!" she replied.

A final thunk against the outer hull; the _Ebon Hawk_'s emergency lighting flickered, but stayed on. Val looked around as a faint hissing began, saw the ugly green mist drifting up from the vents.

"Here we go…"

* * *

><p>"Can you hear me?"<p>

The headache was monumental. Val risked opening her eyes, expecting to have been baked alive under glaring lights. Instead, it was dimly lit in - wherever she was, and there was an annoying buzz in the air, accompanied by the smell of ozone.

"Valena? Are you all right?"

Val sat up slowly, bracing herself against a solid backing. She was in some sort of small cell, barely enough floor space to have accommodated her when she'd been lying down. Around her, an energy field flickered and hummed. Small metallic protrusions in the floor scraped against her skin, and it was cold.

She looked around. To her right was another force cage, holding a worried-looking Bastila, dressed only in what nature had given her. Val looked down at herself. _Oh. Right. That would explain why it's so chilly in here._

"Are you all right?" Bastila asked again.

Footsteps from a hallway beyond, getting closer. "That would depend on what comes next, I guess."

"Whatever they do to us," Bastila warned, "don't give in to yourself."

"Don't you mean, don't give in to them?"

"No, Valena. It's not _them_ you must be prepared to meet."

A tall, pale man in a red and grey uniform entered the brig, a masked Sith trooper beside him. "Bastila Shan. I don't believe my eyes. It's been far too long since we last spoke. I barely recognized you." He sounded concerned, but his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Admiral Karath. I would say I was pleased to see you, but there are far too many innocent deaths on your hands now."

"Poor Bastila. As a Jedi you should recognize that casualties are, alas, unavoidable. We are, after all, at war."

"What of Taris? They weren't sheltering us! And Telos - Telos had no war matériel, no military assets!"

Karath laughed. "Taris was a speck. You sound like an idealistic young man I once knew. The Sith would not accept me, girl, until I proved that I had indeed turned my back on the Republic. But we are not here to speak of that. Lord Malak is far more interested in your... friend."

"We will never serve Malak, Admiral," Bastila said. "The Sith will be destroyed. As will you, if you refuse to turn from this dark path."

Karath snorted. "What a proper little Jedi you are. But the lure of the dark side is hard to resist, or so I've been told. It would be amusing to see just how long you would last under Malak's… tutelage. Not long, I'd wager," he added dismissively. Finally he turned to Val, studying her. "I wonder, young Bastila - is your companion as devoted to the light as you?"

"You're wasting your time," Val announced.

"Defiance. Malak always did like that in his women. And he will find you all the more amusing for your absurd loyalty to the Jedi order. Were it my choice, I would simply kill you. But he is interested in you, given the trouble you've caused him… and given the history between you."

"History? What are you talking about?"

"You mean - oh, this can't be true." He reddened in an effort not to laugh, then turned back to Bastila, wiping his eyes. "He told me once that the Jedi were as twisted as they accused the Sith of being. I must congratulate you on proving him right."

Karath turned to the Sith trooper. "Lieutenant, activate the torture field."

Lightning leapt out of the floor, sparking through Val's legs and into her chest. Every muscle twitched to a separate beat, and she couldn't keep from screaming as her heart thudded and skipped.

In her separate force cage, Bastila writhed as electric sparks forked and twisted over her.

Admiral Karath raised his hand. "Enough. I need them awake and able to talk." The lightning retreated to the metal prods in the floor. Bastila stood, shaking.

"Don't waste your breath, Karath. We will never break."

"I'm sure you won't. Not for me, at least. However, we all know your friend's… loyalties… have proven to be somewhat flexible in the past."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Val asked again.

"Let us put your loyalty to the test now, 'Valena Retee,' or whoever you are supposed to be. Torturing you will not gain me your cooperation - but even the greatest... _hero_," he added with a chuckle, "cannot bear to watch those she cares about suffering.

"Each time you refuse to answer - or give me a false answer - Bastila here will pay the price - _your_ price."

Val stared over at her friend, heart sinking. She was more than a friend, though, she was family. She was - despite their differences - one of those sticky little attachments Master Zhar had warned her about.

"Valena, don't tell him anything!"

_So I should let you die, Bastila?_

She could have fried Saul Karath where he stood. But something about the force cage's energy field disrupted her ability to touch the Force.

"The ties that bind. Oh, how they do bind. Now, answer. On what planet is the Jedi Academy that trained you?"

Master Vandar, Master Zhar. How could she let him have them? Even dusty old Master Vrook didn't deserve this. "Go to hell."

"I see. This is the price of your resistance."

Bastila screamed, and screamed.

"Defy me again, and she will suffer again. But don't worry," he added as he stopped the Sith lieutenant again, "that first question was a test. We already know about the Jedi Academy on Dantooine. It no longer exists."

"No," Bastila coughed. "Vrook - Vandar - it can't be true!"

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not. The fact remains that the Jedi on Dantooine have been eradicated, along with any hope of someone coming to rescue you. Next question. What is your mission? How did the Jedi plan to use you to stop Lord Malak and our armada?"

Her mind raced, Star Map coordinates spinning through her head. She didn't even know what they meant yet, or what this Infinite Empire, this Star Forge was that they were supposed to point to. "They - they were training me to kill you and Malak," she lied.

"Do you take me for a fool? The Jedi are not assassins. They do not kill their prisoners - as you should know, all too well."

A few feet away, Bastila began to scream again. Val could smell burning flesh.

"Spare her, child. Can you not hear her suffering?"

_I don't know… I don't know!_

"Now, on what mission did the Council send you?"

"I don't know!" she screamed.

The hissing flicker finally stopped, and Bastila slumped to the floor, panting and weeping.

Karath looked at the young Jedi. "I am surprised. Rarely have I seen someone withstand so much punishment, and remain conscious. But I am wasting my time here. When Malak arrives, you will learn that my methods are considered merciful, among the Sith."

And then he was gone.

"Bastila - Bastila, can you hear me?"

"Valena…"

"Don't try to move too quickly. I don't know how…"

She coughed. "Saul… wanted to make us suffer. But Valena - I'm sorry. You… you got the worst of it."

"No, Bastila..."

"The dark side has corrupted Karath. Jedi or no, once you start down that path, it only leads you further into the depths of evil. He is forever lost."

It was true. Saul Karath was a monster. She thought back to every time she'd found herself tempted by - no, _using_ the dark side; when she had killed Darth Bandon, she had become drunk on the pain she caused.

He knew something about her. Something that Bastila knew as well. _I have a history._ It was more than she had ever hoped for, even though it wasn't turning out quite the way she'd expected. She'd thought - maybe a family on some small planet somewhere, or a circle of long-lost friends who might be looking for her. Instead, she had apparently known Darth Malak.

_Did I know Revan, too? Was I… something like Saul Karath? Am I becoming that... again?_

If she was… "No one is completely beyond redemption." She had to hope that was true.

"Yes, Valena. I suppose you are correct. But in the face of such cruelty… it's too easy to lose hope in these sacred truths." Bastila leaned her head on her arms, wincing as her hair brushed over burned skin. "First Taris… Now Dantooine. Is there no end to the killing?"

A wild hope. "Shouldn't we have felt something, if the Academy really was destroyed?"

"The dark side has grown too strong. It clouds our perceptions. But I knew as soon as Karath told us, the Academy is indeed gone. We can only hope some of them escaped."

Bastila wobbled, but caught herself before she collapsed completely. "None of this will matter if we can't get out of this prison before Admiral Karath gets back. He said that Malak was on the way, so he must have left to prepare for his arrival." She gazed up at Val. "I must confess, there was a moment or two when part of me was... hoping... perhaps you would give something up. Just to make it stop. But you didn't. You didn't. Thank you, my friend."

Val looked away, no longer afraid, but angry for more reasons than she could fathom.

_I trusted you!_ came that strange-familiar thought again.

"Did you feel that?" Bastila said. "The Admiral has sent his message. The Dark Lord knows we are here. Malak is coming."


	14. Prudiila Chaab

**A/N: **This is where everything starts to change. I'm handling the Big Reveal differently, and although Korriban is only slightly changed, I'll be taking everything Rakata somewhere that isn't Kansas anymore.

I'll try to post another chapter or two before the holidays, but if I don't, have a wonderful holiday, and stay safe!

* * *

><p><strong>XIV. Prudiila Chaab<strong>

It was a simple trick that Juhani had discovered early in her Jedi training. If reality was what people agreed on, then everyone would kindly agree that Juhani wasn't there. This time, she had expanded that agreement to the Mandalorian, as well. Her spell had protected him as long as they'd stayed together on the _Ebon Hawk_, but that had been enough to keep them both from Sith arrest.

She knew it was wrong to derive pleasure from tricking people, but it felt so good to see a Mandalorian turn that interesting shade, as she removed the spell from him, and his eyes decided she was no longer there. "I will find your woman for you," she said, delighting in the weird echoes of her voice that whispered here and there. Someday she would go back to Taris and -

But Taris was dead. And revenge was a beast that would kill its own master.

"When you get back, I'll have security disabled and the _Hawk_ up and running," the Mandalorian said to empty air.

Juhani took nothing but the simple tunic she wore and her small knife. This would prevent her from trying to charge into battle, the way she was always tempted to do. She was Cathar, and violence was part of her predatory heritage. But so was patience.

The collection of incidental shadow and movement that was presently not Juhani moved quickly through the black corridors of the Sith flagship. Everything was dark, but that simply made it easier for eyes to slip away from her. She hugged the wall as a trooper walked past, his rifle hanging lazily. Her claws tightened on the hilt of her little blade, and she half hoped that he would turn back.

She always got hungry when she was stalking something.

Shaking herself, she looked for the nearest access terminal. Her friend Mission had given her a special computer spike to use. _I sliced a nasty little bug into this_, she'd told Juhani before the Sith had stormed their little ship. _Find a port, slip it in, and it'll do half your work for you._

There - a small port below a red-lit terminal. The spike went in as if it couldn't wait to get to work. The screen went blank, the computer suddenly tied up in an unsolvable hyperspace-calculus puzzle. Juhani smiled as she retrieved the spike. So many different ways to hunt. Someday she would learn them all.

* * *

><p>After the interrogation, they'd thrown Val (and probably the others, too, though she couldn't sense them anywhere nearby) into the brig. Valena sat naked and alone in her dimly lit cell, meditating deep in the Force. There had been something wrong ever since she'd met Bastila and the other Jedi - something wrong from the beginning, on Taris, when she'd told Carth about the disease that had scarred the right side of her body.<p>

Even when the healers had explained what had happened to her, she had wondered if it was the truth.

Now she hunted within herself and the Force for some answers. Eyes half closed, she watched the shadows through her eyelashes, vague shapes like furtive wings frozen in blurred flight.

The walls of the cell were a highly reflective polished durasteel, not quite a mirror but enough that no matter which way one were facing one was bound to see a murky, indistinct reflection.

Val saw two.

One sat cross-legged on the cell floor, unclothed, unmoving. The other, a half-formed silhouette, paced the room, its cloak rising and falling like whispers. If Val had opened her eyes fully and looked around the cell, she knew there would have been no other with her.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly.

_I'm Valena Retee, Republic Scout and Jedi._

"I don't think so. Who are you?" she repeated.

Dry laughter. The pacing shadow stopped behind her reflection, its edges coming to rest around her shoulders.

_Your teacher, sometimes._

"I've already been instructed by the Jedi. I don't need another teacher."

_Who do you think guided you through their exercises? Why do you think you progressed so quickly? I was already there, channeling your abilities until you could manage them yourself._

Val thought about that. It made an eerie sort of sense, if by "sense" she meant having a ghostly mentor who jumped into her head and controlled her from time to time.

Maybe that was why she lost control so often.

More laughter. _And wouldn't that be nice if it were so? No more troubled conscience, no more doubting yourself. A clean bill of mental health. So sorry, dear Bastila, a wraith made me chop Darth Bandon's mind up into little... bloody... pieces._

The shadow reflection leaned over her, grinning like a skull.

_I'm not to blame for how you've used your Mandalorian._

"Who _are_ you?"

_I am the questions that you have forgotten how to ask..._

* * *

><p>Juhani found herself clinging to the outside of the ship in a space suit. Not entirely what she'd planned, but it was better than the alternative. No one expected an entire mess hall of loud, hungry, perpetually angry young Sith recruits.<p>

The only way around the mess was an out-of-the-way airlock, complete with armored environment suit and a map of the ship. Convenient. Now if only her Force spell would work on computer brains. The ship knew something was roaming its decks that shouldn't be there, and no matter how many times she used Mission's spike to divert its attention, the artificial intelligence couldn't be tricked for long.

The thought of the _Leviathan_ jumping to hyperspace with a tiny Cathar gnat hanging on gave her an extra boost of speed. No one survived exposure to hyperspace. Not sane, anyway.

The ship's running lights were dark, but the stars gave her light enough to see the hatch only a few yards away. A deep rumble began in her feet, the stars began to shift position, and Juhani leapt frantically for the hatch.

The next person to use this suit would have to wash the fur out first.

* * *

><p>The shade's questions went on and on. Where was she when she first woke, after the disease? How old was she? Did those terrible scars ever pain her? What was Bastila hiding?<p>

_You want the truth, don't deny it. And you already know how to truly put someone to the question. The Jedi never taught it to you, but you've known it all along. How else could you have lured in your Mandalorian? You know what he seeks..._

It was a trick, Val knew it was a trick. She was on a Sith warship after all, and the shadow stalking her mind had to be one of them. Maybe even Malak himself.

Where had she been born, and did she have any family, and what was Bastila hiding?

_How do you find the deepest truth about someone?_

She panted, her sweat dampening the cold floor beneath her. She tried to sit up again, but hadn't the strength. Her muscles, both physical and mental, were simply spent. _Admiral Karath doesn't know what an interrogation is_, she thought with black humor. He'd never have lasted through something like this.

_Karath's mental resources are deeper than yours. He, at least, knew when to answer my questions._

"All right," she rasped. "All right. The deepest truth about someone." She thought again about the Sith governor on Taris. He'd thrown a stasis field around them first, so he could cut them apart at his leisure. No - not at his leisure. He was _afraid_ of them. He wanted to be able to kill them without endangering his own precious skin. Val felt a shadow of the fury she'd drowned in then.

"A person's deepest fear," she whispered. "A person's deepest fear reveals their deepest truth."

_Yes. Good._ The shadow paced around her again. _What does this tell you about what you did to that ridiculous Darth Bandon? What is the greatest fear of a master of illusion?_

She thought furiously, remembering how she'd torn the apprentice's mind to shreds, ignoring her own confused guilt. Yes, she had killed him in a particularly gruesome way - and she would do it again. It was only what he had intended for her, and for the others as well. She didn't regret doing that to him, only that Mission had had to witness it.

"His deepest fear… was that his entire life was an illusion."

_And so it was_, the shadow replied. _Now what is your deepest fear, dear master of your own illusions…?_

It wasn't only the strange, cruel interrogation that was tearing at her mind. Val thought she'd been cured of her claustrophobia on Manaan - but here she was again, stuck in a tiny, dark room with no way out. Val squeezed her eyes shut and began to cry.

* * *

><p>Juhani found the cells with Jolee, Mission, and Zaalbar caged separately. The two droids were in a fourth cell, its field deactivated. They were leaning awkwardly against the wall, kept in shutdown by restraining bolts. She freed T3-M4 first.<p>

"Shhh!" she hissed. The droid seemed to understand. Chirping quietly to itself, it wheeled over to the central terminal, plugged in, and deactivated its friends' cells. There were other cells in this block, but no more of her friends. After glimpsing what was left of those cells' residents, Juhani agreed it was better for T3 to leave them alone.

She almost abandoned HK-47 there, too. But it would be a shame to leave the assassin droid among masters that it would appreciate so highly.

Mission gave her a quick hug, followed by a happy growl from Zaalbar. She returned the girl's magic spike with a smile.

"Where to next?" Mission asked softly. T3 responded with a quiet _Follow me!_ hoot.

* * *

><p>The shadow stopped in its frenzied pacing of the small cell, stalked over to Val's reflection, and kicked out furiously. Val felt no impact, but her body recoiled, sliding across the floor as if something actually had struck her. Phantom pain whispered over her ribcage.<p>

"What do you _want_ with me?" she moaned. "I don't know anything!"

_Idiot child. What I want is for you to face the truth about yourself. Rodian death seed? I would be surprised if that disease even exists. A plague so virulent that it leaves scars over only _half_ its victims' bodies?_

"But they told me - "

They _told you._ Bastila _told you. The_ Jedi _told you. When will you start listening to_ yourself?

She remembered what Canderous had said, that day on Tatooine: _"Someone lied to you, Val. I'd want to know who it was, and why."_

More laughter, like dried leaves crumbling. _At least your taste in men has improved._

Her "teacher" talking about Canderous stopped her cold. _I'm going to lose him someday_, she thought. _If I haven't already._

_Yes. But not for the reasons that you expect. Something is_ coming, _Valena Retee. Something that will consume the galaxy. It's why I went into those ruins on Dantooine. Why I had to use the Star Forge. Why I decided that the galaxy _must_ come together under a single, strong leader._

"Revan."

_Finally, you understand. Maybe there's hope for you, after all._

* * *

><p>T3-M4 led the small party to a second cell block, following the layout of the ship he had uploaded while freeing his friends. He wanted most of all to find his mistress, but there was no sign of her in the ship's records. Wherever she was being held, the cell number was tightly classified.<p>

The Cathar female designated Juhani led the way; she graciously asked T3 to slice every codelocked blast door they came to, rather than relying on yet another - admittedly elegant - computer spike the juvenile Twi'lek designated Mission Vao produced for the purpose. Of course, the other droid in the party, HK-47, would never have been able to accomplish even so much as a simple spike. That one was skilled with a blaster, T3 had to admit, but his communication protocols included none of the myriad computer languages stored in T3's vast matrix.

The next cell block was empty. Again, no mistress. The other Jedi female, Bastila Shan, was likewise missing, her location also restricted. T3 _dwooo_ed his distress.

Somewhere below, something echoed with a hollow boom. That would be the human designated Canderous Ordo, most likely doing something about the security in the docking bay. Why the Mandalorian couldn't accomplish his duty more quietly was beyond T3's processing capabilities, but he trusted the large human to get the job done. Even if, as his predictive coding anticipated, the rest of the party would have to navigate a number of inoperative enemy soldiers upon their return to the docking bay.

Less than maximum efficiency. But it would have to do.

Finally every guard station had been locked down, the guards inside gassed into blissful slumber, and every cell block searched. No Valena, no Bastila. There were signs that the two Jedi had been held temporarily in cell block 42, but that block was empty now. There was only one possible place to retrieve the information on their locations.

"Looks like we're headed to the bridge," Mission grumbled. She reloaded her bowcaster happily. "But at least we found our gear."

* * *

><p>Val stood almost touching the durasteel bulkhead, her shadowed reflection staring back at her.<p>

_Help me_, it said, _and I will help you._

"Betrayal is the way of the Sith."

(_I trusted you!_)

_Yesss! I trusted him!_ Suddenly the shadow was burning, screaming, but Val didn't flinch away. She felt a faint echo of flames searing away the skin on her right arm. _Don't you see? He did this to us!_

(Fire and pain. She'd been here before.)

"How do I know you won't do the same to me?"

The flames disappeared, but the shadow was still bloodied and burned, looking like something out of a holovid horror story.

_Shouldn't I ask that question of you? After all, you're the Jedi - and has their betrayal been any easier?_

"You're Revan. You're the greatest threat the galaxy has known since the Mandalorians. How can I trust you?"

_How can you trust Canderous Ordo?_

"Because he's earned that trust. A thousand times over. He'd follow me into hell, if I asked him to."

_It is not you he follows._

Sudden understanding flooded her with anger. "You mean he _knew_? He knew I was - that you were - "

A mocking laugh. _Not consciously, no. Your virtue is still safe with him. But on some level, yes, he recognized the woman who once defeated him. Mandalorians are loyal as trained kath hounds, once you know where to clip the leash._

"And where would you clip my leash?"

Revan's shadow-face fell. _You have it all wrong. I am the one who is bound to you. I'd forgotten, _the shadow sighed gently_, how much strength the love of friends can lend you. That is why I failed - why the Sith will always fail. Do not doubt your Mandalorian. He loves you. I merely bested the soldier; you have conquered the man._

The shadow reached toward her, but was stopped by the mirrored surface that contained it. Its hand spread out, small and human, and Val saw that it was her own. She touched the reflection, a touch that somehow became an embrace, life meeting life, something missing returned to its rightful place.

Revan turned from the glossy durasteel, her reflection now only a reflection, and stopped in front of the door. Reaching through the Force, she found the security pad outside and triggered a code she had used in another lifetime. It still worked.

The door slid shut behind her. Reaching into the Force again, she scrambled camera circuits all down the long hallway, scrambling as well the minds of the few who saw her. Strange: there weren't many guards, for a prison level; she listened in the currents of the Force, and discovered that her friends had been hard at work. They were headed to the bridge now, toward where Saul Karath had taken up his post.

Good. She would meet them there.

* * *

><p>Juhani skidded to a sudden halt. The blast doors leading into the bridge were closed, but not locked. Already they were hissing open, a sound that almost stopped the Cathar's fierce heart.<p>

Mission darted around her, bowcaster primed and ready.

"Wait!" Juhani warned. "There's something not right. Someone - some _thing_ is in there - "

"Yeah, that pile of Hutt droppings Karath! Let's show him who he's been messing with!"

Zaalbar roared agreement.

But Admiral Saul Karath, Juhani realized as the doors hissed wide, would not be "messing with" anyone else again.

The dark-robed figure inside turned as Karath's lifeless body dropped from its grasp. A smile as it lowered its hood and beckoned them inside. Around the bridge, some twenty other bodies slumped in their seats, unmoving.

The young Cathar quietly thumbed her comlink on. If they needed help with this... person... only Canderous was left. He had to know what he might be facing, if they failed.

Juhani stepped in gingerly, motioning the young Twi'lek to stay behind her, as Zaalbar laid a protective paw on the girl's arm. Mission shook him off, though, and walked boldly up to the woman.

"Val? You, uh, you look different. I mean, not bad different, you look really nice. For, you know, being locked up or whatever."

The woman smiled. "Well, a little facial, a little torture, it does wonders for the complexion."

"Who are you?" Juhani asked. Mission looked back and forth between them, confused.

The woman waited, still smiling.

Her vision narrowed, focusing in on the strange figure. So familiar. She looked like their Val, of course, but - not. More like that other woman, someone she'd seen only from a distance, and too many years ago to be sure. There had always been something familiar about Val, of course: something about the way she moved, that graceful determination, had always reminded Juhani of her long-ago fallen hero. Even the Mandalorian had remarked to her once, months before, on the strange resemblance.

But it was impossible - wasn't it?

The shadow woman stalked over to Mission, who suddenly seemed to see the menace boiling out of the stranger's every movement. "Come on now, Juhani," the woman purred. "Mission deserves to know the truth." She eyed Juhani's pocket, where the comlink listened quietly.

_Canderous... deserves to know._

Juhani blinked, and Val stood there with a casual arm around Mission's shoulders. She blinked again, and it was _her_, the shadow, the most dangerous woman in the galaxy.

"Revan," she breathed.

Val's mischievous smile broke through. "Nah, Revan's dead. I'm the shiny new model."

Zaalbar grunted happily. Val's smile widened into a grin. "I never doubted you, either, you big lunk. Now let's get the gang back together."

They couldn't find Bastila. Malak was nowhere on the ship either, Mission announced after slicing the bridge terminal. "He took Bastila, I bet!" she yelled angrily. "How are we gonna get her back?"

"Don't worry," Val said. "We'll find her. The Force doesn't make mistakes. Remember, we still have to get to the last Star Map, and the Star Forge. Malak doesn't just abandon his toys."

"But you're Revan! Don't you _know_ where the Star Forge is?"

"Yes, but the Lehon system is heavily policed, and the _Ebon Hawk_ is just a merchanter. We need the computer codes to verify ourselves with the interdiction ships, and we can only get those from the Star Maps. There's still one piece missing."

"So... where's the last Star Map?"

Val hesitated. "Korriban."

No one spoke for a moment.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Juhani finally asked. "The Mandalorian has control of the _Hawk_ again. It is time to leave, I think."

The troubled look on Val's face deepened. "Yes," Val said. "Time to leave. Mission, make sure you code the guard stations to unlock in a few hours."

"Done! Poor guards, I wouldn't want to have to make their reports..."

Juhani thought many of those guards would quietly disappear, rather than return to Darth Malak. Maybe this was a "shiny new" Revan, after all; the old Darth Revan would have simply destroyed the whole ship.

* * *

><p>A short run brought them back to the hangar where the <em>Hawk<em> waited, its controls freed from the _Leviathan_'s computers, guards' bodies still lying where they'd fallen. The others hopped aboard, but Revan boarded more slowly. The droids found their recharge and diagnostic stations; Juhani and Mission collapsed in their cabin, exhausted, while Zaalbar piloted them safely away from the sleeping _Leviathan_.

When she walked into the mess, only Canderous was there, shoulders slumped over the small table, looking at least a decade older. He wore dark blue, sweat-soaked fatigues, his armor - scarred and dented from his own fight to free the _Hawk_ - lying in a heap behind him.

Val was still wearing those Sith-black robes. They'd been the only clothing she'd found - though admittedly, she hadn't looked very hard after that. At the time, the robes seemed wonderfully appropriate, but now she wished she had found something, anything, less sinister.

_You can do this you can do this you can do this..._

_- I trusted you! -_

She looked at him.

He was staring back at her, his face empty and ashen. "Revan." She'd never seen him so pale.

"Yes."

His hands were shaking slightly; he pressed them into the surface of the table, fingertips white.

"It's true, then."

"Yes."

He stood slowly, as if he wasn't sure his legs still worked. Walking up to her, he surprised her by taking a knee. "Command me."

Revan shook her head violently, tears stinging her eyes. "No, Canderous, don't do this to me!"

"You are Darth Revan. You seized the Helm of the Mandalore. You are my rightful commander, and I would know what you wish of me."

She dropped down to the floor with him. Slowly, she put her arms around him, touched his face, his hair, his mouth. He stared at her, his breath harsh and uncertain. "_Cyar'ika_," he whispered.

The threatening tears spilled over her cheeks, and she kissed him. His fervorous response heated her and relieved her all at once. "Never kneel to me, or to anyone, ever again. That's what I wish of you, Canderous Ordo."


	15. Korriban:  Reuniting

**A/N: ** Happy New Year! Hopefully 2012 will treat the world a little nicer than 2011 did...

* * *

><p><strong>XV. Korriban: Reuniting<strong>

It still hadn't sunk in for Val, not entirely. Mission seemed to think the whole thing delightful - but then again, among all the mass of lock picks, colorful clothing, computer spikes, and blankets that was the girl's sleeping berth, she also had a large, plush, purple rancor. A real, live Sith lord must have seemed like just another toy to a girl who'd grown up protected by a Wookiee.

Zaalbar took everything with his customary stoicism, as if terrible revelations were something one simply expected to happen now and again.

No one else had any idea how to react. Juhani treated Val with gentle deference, seemingly afraid of her, but drawn to her at the same time. Revan was the reason, ultimately, that Bastila had been taken; but Revan was also her only link to the young woman.

The bond got worse every day, from simple dreams and visions of Bastila's torment, to what seemed like hours of being locked in Bastila's body, lashed by Malak's limitless hatred. Val saw him every time she closed her eyes.

She hadn't truly slept in days.

T3 stayed out of her way, but she caught his optic lens shining in her direction almost every time she turned around. Val wasn't sure what had gotten into the little guy: maybe he was afraid, in his small, droid way; or maybe he simply thought she needed another memory wipe. The first one hadn't taken very well, after all.

The other droid on the ship was nowhere near as unobtrusive. HK-47 was in electronic heaven, following her everywhere, boasting insistently about old adventures he'd had with Darth Revan, until Val began wondering if droids could go so badly wrong that they started inventing memories for themselves. She finally had enough of him, though, and shut him down.

And Canderous...

The Mandalorian was struggling, that was certainly apparent. He would smile and touch her at odd moments, usually in the ship's morning before everyone had fully woken up; then something would change behind his eyes, he would pull away, and every time they spoke from then on, it would be painfully formal.

More than anything, Val needed someone to talk to, to lean on while she sorted these things out; but no one on the ship seemed up to the task, and the other half of the crew was still missing.

There would be hell to pay if she ever saw Carth again. Val had killed Saul Karath, stealing Carth's vengeance - and she'd turned out to be the voice behind Karath's evil to begin with. All those trust issues Carth had been trying to work through, while Val herself worked on having patience with his ridiculous fears. And here they were, tied together with the same bonds of misery and betrayal.

Maybe Jolee could have helped, but Val knew he had issues of his own. Why did she seem to have picked up every broken being in the galaxy for her crewmembers? Or was brokenness merely a common affliction of life? Her disjointed memories were no help, serving up mostly images of people dying on the end of her blade.

So at night, when she lay alone in her berth, Val plucked the strings of her bond, following its resonance to a knot of pain, remorse, and hatred. It was the only way she could stay sane, as odd as it seemed, to listen to her bond sister going mad light years away.

She saw humans and aliens in her dreams, hellish obsidian statues carved out of pain and fear. She saw strange mechanisms, felt them thrumming in the Force, as if dead machinery could somehow have a soul. And she felt Bastila there with her, trying to tell her something vital - but as soon as she woke, it was gone.

In the middle of the ship's night, Valena got up, went to the cockpit, and thought about things. She found herself searching the HoloNet for news of the worlds they'd been to.

Taris was still a smoking ruin, but Gadon Thek and many of his gang had survived; not only survived, but had led the rescue and relief efforts. Most of the undercity had come through intact, but with limited stores and nothing having come down from the surface, things had been tight. And it seemed that Gadon Thek could have been somewhat Force sensitive, too: in an interview with an independent reporter, he claimed that he could "feel" when survivors were yet hanging on within the surface rubble.

That article was almost a year old, but she found a newer report declaring that Gadon Thek had been elected to the Galactic Senate. Val smiled when she found that one.

There was little news from Dantooine, aside from the attack on the Jedi enclave - but further searches turned up a passenger manifest of immigrants to Agamar that included Shen and Rahasia Sandral-Matale, along with a newborn girl named Retee. Had it really been that long since they'd all been refugees in the enclave?

On Tatooine, Anchorhead had been hard hit by a Tusken attack timed to coincide with a monstrous sand storm. Czerka Corporation was heading efforts to hunt down the tribe, and several people presumed dead in the mess had been found imprisoned - sick and wounded but alive - in the Tusken camp. Czerka, of course, had widely advertised the campaign, leading to their stock jumping impressively.

The corporation was strangely close-mouthed about the events on Kashyyyk, though, and Val couldn't find any news from the planet beyond the fact that the Wookiees had closed all their starports.

A new council had been elected on Manaan, kolto shipments were being released again, albeit slowly, and Ambassador Roland had received a chestful of medals. Val found a recent holo-image of him and shook her head: his spit and polish had spit and polish, but he'd gained at least twenty kilos.

On her way back to bed, she found Canderous wandering the ship. She went to him, and he enfolded her in his arms. She could feel his heart thudding against hers, something she had missed terribly in the past few days. The stubble on his jaw was sweet on her lips.

"Revan," he whispered, his breath hot on her neck, and she shoved him away, confused and angry, torn between emotions she couldn't understand and had no explanation for. Finally she shut the hatch into the berth, locked it tight, and tried to find sleep.

She was Darth Revan, damn it all. She could do _anything_.

Why hadn't the Jedi stopped her sooner?

* * *

><p>He should never have kept his first name.<p>

Carth laid down a perfect idiot's array, making his table mates scowl and mutter.

"Darth Carth wins again," the aromatic Gotal snarled.

"I told you," Carth "Antilles" insisted to the other Sith hopefuls as they tossed down their sabacc cards, "I'm not Force sensitive. I'm just fed up with the Republic's crap, and I'm ready to lend my blaster to the guys trying to shake things up."

"Right," the Zabrak growled. "That's why you came all the way to Korriban to sign up."

"Hey, I'm showing initiative - I'd rather not sign up as just cannon fodder! And here you are, in the same group of hopefuls as 'Darth Carth'. I'd be surprised if you were more Force talented than a bantha."

"I was tested by the Jedi as a child!" the Zabrak proclaimed.

"Sure, serenity boy," the Gotal mocked. "That's why Darth Carth takes the pot again!"

The Zabrak dived across the table towards the Gotal. Carth rose, cursing, and scooped up his winnings just in time to avoid the crash that sent cards and table flying.

The cantina door squealed open, admitting a tall figure in black robes. The squabbling pair of hopefuls sprang to attention along with the rest of the patrons, save for one Twi'lek woman in the back. Carth swallowed hard and jerked his attention back to the door.

The tall figure swept his hood back, revealing a face as brown and deeply creased as old wroshyr wood. His head was shaven clean, but a short grey beard lined his jaw.

Carth tried not to stare at Jolee, whose arrogant expression finally settled on the woman shadowed in the rear of the room.

"Yuthura," he greeted her gruffly, "I need to speak with you."

The azure-skinned beauty rose with a grimace of distaste and stalked over. As she passed, one tattooed brain-tail brushed Carth's arm. "Master Jola," she replied. "What is it now?"

"Outside." As he turned, he caught Carth's eye and gave a quick nod.

Carth suppressed a curse. Dustil was here, then. And he'd been taken as a trainee.

He and Morgana were good Republic citizens, so when Dustil was old enough, they'd given consent to let the Jedi test him. The preliminary results were hopeful, but before they'd had a chance to apply for Dustil's admission, the galaxy had caught fire and Carth had shipped out. Neither he nor Morgana could stomach losing their son at such a terrible time.

Funny how they'd all lost each other anyway.

Jolee and the Twi'lek Sith walked back into the cantina, arguing in low voices.

"You'll hear about it when it's done, and not before," Jolee growled. "Be glad I'm putting this much energy into your plan - or would you rather I killed you along with him?"

Yuthura's eyes blazed. "You would not dare!"

Jolee's eyes flicked over to Carth again. "You," he said brusquely. "You'll be serving me now, boy. Congratulations on your advancement."

"Uh - " Carth got out, before Yuthura stepped in.

"Oh, no, Jola. This one's mine. What would _you_ want with such a pretty boy, anyway?" Suddenly she was flying back through the room, people scrambling to dodge her limp body. She groaned once, but didn't get up.

"Any other questions?" Jolee asked the cantina crowd. No one spoke. He looked at Carth again. "I thought I gave you orders, boy. I expect to be obeyed."

"Yes! Yes sir," Carth replied, and followed Jolee out. "What the hell was that?" he demanded as soon as they were out of sight of the cantina.

The sun was low on the horizon, staining the proud walls of the academy fortress with gold and blood. Shading his eyes, Carth caught sight of a familiar ship silhouetted on the plateau above the ancient tombs.

"Revan's back," Jolee said curtly.

"What? We have to notify the Republic! We have to warn them - "

Jolee rounded on him with a snarl. "They already know, Onasi. They're the ones who sent her out here in the first place. Yes, Revan's back, but she's all rainbows and sunshine now. Fighting for the Republic, apparently."

Carth shook his head angrily. "Can't be - Revan's on nobody's side but her own! She's the only reason we're even out here - she's the reason the galaxy is so screwed up in the first place!"

The older man stared at him, the old glint of humor in his eyes gone. "Sure, and now try this one: Revan's back, and she has Dustil, and if you want to see him, you'd better come with me, and you'd better keep your tongue behind your teeth."

* * *

><p>Carth sat on a rock outside the <em>Ebon Hawk<em>'s hold. That hadn't gone well. Val - Revan - and the way the others just _took_ everything she said like it was pure gold.

Well, everyone but Jolee. He was the only other sane member of the crew. He was the one who'd gone into the Sith Academy - forging an identity disturbingly similar to his real one - and he was the one who'd found Dustil. The boy had refused to even hear Jolee out, until the Jedi had brought him proof of a missing friend's murder at the hands of her own Sith tutor.

Betrayal was the way of the Sith. How could Dustil have expected anything different?

_I should have listened to my first instincts when I met "Valena Retee."_ And Canderous - Carth thought he'd behaved with admirable restraint around the Mandalorian - he'd even started to like the mercenary, in a not-killing-you-today sort of way. The Mandalorian obviously thought the sun shone out of Revan's ass. Pathetic. But then what could he expect out of any devotee of Revan's?

What could he have expected out of Dustil?

The breeze soothed his headache, but his hands refused to unclench. Footsteps sounded down the boarding ramp; a small blue hand twined around his arm as Mission sat down next to him. He stopped himself from trying to ruffle hair she didn't have. "Hey, kid, how're you doing?"

"I was gonna ask you that," Mission said in a sad voice.

More footsteps. The sand at Carth's feet blurred.

"Dad."

"Yeah, Dustil."

"I can't stay for long. Master Uthar will be expecting me back at the Academy."

"You don't have to go back there, son. Come with me - help me - we can still win this - "

"There's no 'we' here, Dad. There never was."

"Your mother would have wanted - "

"Mom's dead!" Dustil yelled. "She died because of you! Yeah, I know the Sith have lied to me all this time - but that part's no lie. If you had been there for more than a few weeks every year - if you had been any kind of - you don't get to walk back into my life as if you have any rights to me!"

Mission stifled a sob, her face pressed against Carth's sleeve. "Shh, I'm sorry, you don't need to be out here listening to us."

"No, I sure do!" she said. "Dustil, you are such a - a - I don't even know what to call you! You're lucky you even still _have_ a dad! Maybe if you just tried to get to know him - "

"He was never there for me to know him!"

"He's here now!"

Carth looked back and forth between the two. What was going on with them? The girl looked like she wanted to slap his son clear from here to Coruscant, while Dustil seemed to be unable to even meet her eyes. Then he remembered how quickly he'd fallen for Morgana.

Somehow things became a lot clearer all of a sudden. A small, painful voice inside him whispered that Mission could do a lot better.

"Look, I'll, uh... Dustil, whatever you... I want to tell you that I'll... you're still my son. I'm sorry I wasn't there enough, but I protected you and your mom as well as I thought I could. I wish I could have seen what was coming and gotten you out before - hell." He stood up and offered his hand to his son. After a moment, Dustil took it, briefly. It wasn't enough, but Carth knew that it might be a long time before he could hold his son again - if ever.

Mission gave Carth a hug, as if demonstrating how to do it for Dustil - or maybe simply because she knew Carth needed one.

"Don't tell me you're thinking about staying on too, Mission?"

"No," Dustil said. "That's... not a good idea."

"Oh, really? Listen, mister, I've had to put up with your dad trying to boss me around for months! You don't get to do the same thing, even if you are on our side now!"

"'Our' side? Since when did me talking to you about stuff turn into..."

As they started shouting at each other again, Dustil nervous and defensive, Mission with a spark in her eyes, Carth quietly slipped back into the _Hawk_. Zaalbar cast him an inquiring look.

"I don't know, big guy. Whatever she sees in him - I love him, he's my son! But I don't think he'd be very good for her, you know?"

Mission's and Dustil's voices carried up the ramp again, and Zaalbar chuckled. Carth had picked up a bit of his language, and now the big Wookiee was opining that Mission would be very good for Dustil.

A moment later, she ran back on board. "No offense, Carth, but your son's a pile of Hutt droppings!"

"Wait - Mission!" Dustil stormed up the ramp after her. "Uh," he said when he saw Zaalbar looming behind her. "Oh, hell." He walked over to Mission and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you again," Dustil said. "I promise!" He pressed a small bit of flimsiplast into her hand, then he was gone.

"Oh, wow."

Zaalbar rumbled something Carth didn't quite catch, and Mission flushed deep blue. "He gave me his comm codes, guys. He promised to call! I bet we can get him to..."

Carth looked at her.

"Well, he promised to call _me_..."

The Wookiee growled something, and Mission rounded on him. "Of course I'm practical! And he's got... um... really nice hair." She glared at them. "What? Just because I'm a Twi'lek, that doesn't mean I can't like nice hair!"

* * *

><p>Jolee watched the ship close up for the night. "Good work," he observed, patting Dustil on the back. "Ready to do some more?"<p>

"What?" Dustil sneered. "I spied on Revan for you - I never said I'd join you light-side freaks."

Jolee leaned in close enough to make the boy back away in discomfort. "Do I look like a Jedi to you?"

"Kriff, I don't know what you look like, but I know what you smell like!"

"That's just my super secret disguise, boy. No one needs to know I'm no Sith."

"If you're not a Sith, then you're a Jedi. If you're not a Jedi, you're a Sith."

"Well, if that's what helps you sleep at night..."

"What are you, then?" Dustil was starting to get impatient. Master Uthar's "tests" were easy, compared to whatever this old coot was trying to do.

"I'm a very old man," Jolee replied softly, "with a very old debt to repay." He looked out where the _Ebon Hawk_ was silhouetted against the last light of sunset. "There's a war going on in that ship."

The crazy look was gone, and suddenly Dustil realized that this "old coot" could be very dangerous. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your dad, and the woman he thinks is Revan."

"The woman he thinks - but she _is_ Revan!"

"Heh. Maybe." He looked up at the stars, his eyes glinting. "The same war is going on out there in the stars, boy - and in here," he added, tapping Dustil's sternum roughly. "I chose my side a long time ago. Have you?"

* * *

><p>Juhani was in the cockpit, waiting for everyone to come in for the night so she could close the ramp, when she heard a scream. <em>No, not this! How long will Malak do this to her!<em>

When she got out to the main hold, Val was on the deck, wailing and thrashing, her pallid face smeared with spittle and tears. Onasi and the Mandalorian were trying to hold her down, Mission had shrunk into one corner, crying, and the Wookiee was making horrible, throaty howls.

"Hold her!" Carth yelled as Val's body tried to throw him off. "She's - "

Val's rolling eyes caught Juhani's. The Cathar vaulted over the table, shoving both of the larger men out of the way violently.

"J - Juhani?"

"I'm here."

"Juhani, please - "

"I hear you, Bastila," she said, clutching Val's freezing hand. Val's eyes closed for a moment. Then the other hand shot up, clenching around Juhani's throat in an iron grasp. She struggled to breathe, to get free, but the other woman was just too strong. Cold lips fastened on her mouth, sucking and biting until Juhani tasted blood.

"Malak promised me I could have you." The terrible voice came from Val's body, but it wasn't hers. "Come and find me, love," the voice sang as Juhani's vision started to fade. The grip loosened, the voice softening into tears. "Please, come. Please. Help me! I can't - "

Val's hand pulled away and flailed into Juhani's cheek as the manic, screaming laughter started again, then faded away into retching coughs, then silence.

Strong hands caught Juhani as she fell, the Mandalorian growling curses, Carth's voice saying something stupidly soothing. She caught a glimpse of Ordo carrying Val's unconscious body into the medical berth, and then she passed out.


	16. Peace is a Lie

**A/N: **Sorry for the single post last week; my get-up-and-go had no get-up-and-go after the holiday laziness. I'm still about five chapters ahead of what I'm posting, and I'm trying to keep it that way, though I'm also trying to keep my twice weekly posts going. If I fall behind again, it's because I have to get the final chapters _just right_.

Note/Warning: I was really disappointed in the original Rakata. If I were the most advanced race the galaxy had ever seen, surely I'd have something better to do with my phenomenal cosmic power than conquer the galaxy for the lulz? Everything about the Rakata, except their morphology, is AU territory. The Lehon/Rakata Prime/Star Forge chapters have very little to do with what went on in the game.

* * *

><p><strong>XVI. Peace is a Lie<strong>

Everything was quiet. The engines were warm enough for a quick start, or for emergency power to the shields and turret - Carth had started teaching Mission all about piloting since he'd come back - and the silence on the ship seemed to have a noise all its own.

Footsteps down the central passageway made her peek out from the starboard cabin. Canderous was dressed in full armor, his repeater slung over one shoulder. His movements were almost silent, but the solid boots of his armor held a subdued, distinctive threat.

Mission threw on her clothes, powered on her stealth generator, and followed Canderous to the ramp, curious. It hummed open as Zaalbar appeared from the cockpit. That decided her - _Big Z's not going anywhere without me!_

Outside, a wroshyr-wood statue came to life and smiled grimly. The sight of the boy beside Jolee made Mission want to blush and yell and dance all at once, but she stayed perfectly unmoving, tucked out of the way till an opportunity to follow might present itself.

Somehow, Jolee's eyes found hers, and she suddenly realized how very tired she was. Nobody was leaving the ship - it was just a dream, and she had better get back to bed before someone caught her sleepwalking.

That would just be too embarrassing.

* * *

><p>Zaalbar thought he'd had enough of the desert on Tatooine. Korriban was more than a simple desert planet, though. Tatooine had annealed them all, made them tougher, smarter, harder to kill; this world was sucking out their life and hope the way moisture vaporators robbed the air.<p>

The old Jedi was still quick and spry, running lightly on the crumbling soil as Zaalbar and Canderous struggled behind. The _Ebon Hawk_ had dimmed away into a collection of landing lights when the stars showed them the immense statuary of the burial canyon beneath the temple academy.

An academy teaching young sentients to gain power from hatred: his brother would have done well here. Zaalbar snarled silently to himself, willing the memories away to focus on the present. They had a job to do, one that in her current condition, Val wouldn't be able to accomplish.

Jolee had found records inside the Academy detailing an ancient mystery. He'd already scouted the Sith tombs, and quickly briefed them on the structure of the mountain. The ancients had excavated too far, and what the Sith discovered there had frightened even them.

The old Jedi had found records inside the Academy detailing the mystery. Most of the rapidly eroding mountain was honeycombed with crumbling tombs, but the Star Map cave had been built with a strange, seemingly indestructible obsidian material; according to Jolee, the old records speculated that the cavern had not been built within the mountain, but that the mountain had somehow risen around it. Millennia later, Sadow's tomb had been sealed against the black cavern, the spirit of the powerful Sith Lord set to guard against an ancient terror. Now it was no more than a crumble of bricks - but the Star Map chamber would likely outlast even the mountain above it.

Ahead, Jolee disappeared into the mouth of a tomb-cave; a moment later, the dim light from a glow rod blinked that all was clear. Canderous looked over at Zaalbar, nodded, and followed the Jedi inside.

Zaalbar took a breath of the cold night air and plunged through after them.

After an eternity of winding their way down narrow corridors and between fallen debris from ancient traps, they clambered through a final, partially cleared rockfall into the burial chamber.

The tomb smelled like the Shadow Lands.

A pale human stepped out, his face a ghastly grey beneath a layer of tattoos.

"You took a great risk, bringing... _friends_ to this place," he chided Jolee.

"The Force has served him well," a female voice replied, as a tall, sinewy Twi'lek woman melted from the shadows. "And he has served me - dear friend."

Jolee tossed his lightsaber in one hand, flipping and twirling the handle without activating it. It was a challenge, Zaalbar could smell it, but the old man merely smiled lazily. "What's a party without guests, Yuthura? I thought I'd bring my buddies along to show you how it's done."

The whine of Canderous' heavy repeater charging up echoed strangely in the tomb. The woman's eyes widened sharply.

"Remember our agreement, Master Jola," she hissed.

"Agreement, that's cute," Jolee chuckled. "I ever tell you what my favorite game at the Jedi Temple was? No? It was Banthas and the Sarlacc. Everyone picks a pebble, but there's only one black one. No one knows what anyone else picked. All the banthas - that's you young fools, by the way - have to decide who the bad guy is. And the sarlacc? He gets to 'kill' everyone else."

Zaalbar unsheathed Bacca's Blade, the edge gleaming as red in the glow-light as a Sith saber.

"The Masters used to chide us for playing such a deceitful game. Me? I _always_ drew the black stone." He gave a predatory grin. "Two banthas, three sarlaccs. Let's see who survives."

Jolee was on Uthar in a moment, spinning and diving, his blade everywhere. Uthar's lightsaber blocked and parried, but he was always too slow, always defending against the older man's fury. Yuthura howled and leapt toward Canderous, but Zaalbar stepped in and met her blade with his own. She had the Force, but he had his native size and strength, and her Force talents were nothing compared to what he knew Val could do.

He waited for an opening in Yuthura's frantic blows, and a backhand - just a love tap, really - sent her flying against the wall as if the Wookiee were the one using the Force.

The Mandalorian's weapon thundered, and Zaalbar prepared himself to duck the rebounds, but Canderous wisely wasn't aiming toward anyone with a lightsaber. Instead, the bolts buried themselves in the ceiling above, shattering mortar and loosening eons of stone.

"Fool!" Yuthura screamed, writhing in pain as she tried to get to her feet. "You will destroy us all!"

"No, just you," the Jedi sneered. "Now, Zaalbar!"

The Wookiee snatched a concussion grenade from his belt, primed it, and threw; at the same time, Jolee shattered the far wall with the Force. The ground shook, but the three made it into the hidden Star Map chamber just before the tomb ceiling crumbled.

At the center waited something that looked like a mechanical version of some of the carnivorous flowers of Kashyyyk.

Jolee ran his hand inches above the cavern walls, eyes closed; he seemed to be searching in the Force for structural weaknesses, but apparently found none. "They knew how to build, I'll give those ancient what's-its that much," he admitted. Zaalbar cautiously touched one of the black walls, but drew his furry hand back with a yelp of pain. What was this stuff?

"Hurry," Canderous snapped, and then the evil-looking flower was blossoming into light, and Zaalbar thumbed his datapad open to record the spectacle.

Getting out was the easy part. With Jolee's help through the Force, they scrambled and slid over the rockslide back down to the safe ground below.

The lights of the _Hawk_ welcomed them home, but the Mandalorian hesitated at the ramp.

* * *

><p>When Mission woke the next morning, it hadn't been a dream after all. Zaalbar was back; but Jolee, Big Z explained, had decided to stay on Korriban and raise some more mayhem of his own. And Canderous had disappeared entirely.<p>

Val came out of the medical berth, wrapped in a blanket but still pale and shivering. Mission gave her the bad news. She halfway expected Val to start cursing, or shooting lightning or something - but the older woman stumbled into the cockpit and collapsed into the pilot's chair with a hollow laugh. Mission peered in to see what Val had reacted to.

The data from the final Star Map were loaded into the ship's computer. Over it blinked two words in Mandalorian:

_Oya Manda._

* * *

><p>Mission had played pazzak with Griff a thousand times before. Not the regular game, of course: you didn't win with a pure pazzak, you won if you got to the end of a whole round without your opponent catching your cheats. After a while, though, she could always spot Griff's cheats, and he had stopped playing.<p>

Carth Onasi wasn't Griff. Mission hadn't explained the rules to him - she just wanted to see if she could trick him. But he'd been distracted since leaving Korriban, and it wasn't really a fair game. It wasn't _his_ fault Mission had won three times in a row!

Boots scraped across the deck plates, and Carth and Mission turned to see Val shuffle through aimlessly and disappear down the passageway toward the cargo hold.

Carth shrugged apologetically to Mission, tossed his cards down, and went after her.

* * *

><p>The hatch was half-open; pieces of armor lay on the work bench, unsecured. That wasn't like Val, leaving things where they could fly around and hurt someone if the engines or compensators hiccupped. She wasn't really <em>Val<em>, though, was she?

Revan stood in the center of the hold, balancing shakily as she moved through a clumsy kata. Carth had seen Val do these exercises before, had admired her form and agility. She'd never been beautiful - not with those scars - but he had been drawn to her, at least at first. He'd kept his distance, though, especially after it was clear she and the Mandalorian had grown close.

The Mandalorian. Carth wondered where the man had gone, what dark mission Revan could have sent him on.

He cleared his throat; Val set her foot down and opened her eyes. They were red and bleary from lack of sleep.

_What the hell am I doing here?_ he asked himself, but had no answer. This woman wasn't the person she'd led him to believe. His wife's death was on her hands, hers and Karath's - and she'd blithely taken that away from him, too, when she had killed Saul on the _Leviathan_.

It was simply old habit, he acknowledged to himself, the need to be there for a - well, a friend, that's what Val had been to him.

But this wasn't Val anymore.

He turned to leave. The hatch slammed itself shut in front of him.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry," she said coldly.

He turned and studied her. The bags under her eyes were new, as was the twitch in her right hand, as if she were constantly pulling herself back from something. Her hair was a mess, even more than usual. She looked exhausted, but Carth knew it was just a Sith glamour.

"You don't regret anything?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I regret your wife's death. The rest of it?" She shook her head. "I've seen the numbers, the tallies of civilians killed during the Jedi Civil War. They're smaller than the number of beings who starve to death every year. And they're smaller than the number of beings who die of domestic or criminal violence, or of disease." She rattled off numbers and statistics, as if trying to convince herself. It was all an act, of course. "There are whole systems in the Corporate Sector where beings are essentially enslaved, who live maybe thirty years before dying of labor exhaustion while business empires thrive. But no one points fingers at them. No one does anything about the waste of life that happens every single day - except that with me, they can point to a bad guy and say 'Darth Revan did that.'"

"You killed billions," Carth spat.

"Not personally, but I was responsible, yes."

"And you don't regret it."

"I don't even remember most of it. I'm not here to hold your hand and say nice things, Onasi. You can come with me and try to save _hundreds_ of billions, or you can get out of my way."

The hatch hissed open. Carth didn't move.

"Why are you still here?"

"You ever notice how Mission gets stars in her eyes whenever she sees you? They all do. Maybe I can't save the galaxy from you. But I can save this crew."

Revan's face softened. For half an instant she looked like Val, the old Val - the woman he'd left on Manaan, before anyone knew...

Even then, she could have been lying.

"I need the crew," she hissed. "I need you. _None_ of you are leaving this ship until I say so. No one gets a day off, no one goes for a walk - no one_ uses the fragging head_ without my leave!"

"Wrong!" Carth roared back. "I've just laid in a course for Coruscant. We have the Star Forge coordinates - the Fleet will blast it out of the void, and _you_ - you'll be lucky if they let you spend the rest of your life in solitary!"

He ducked under a fist that wouldn't even have left a bruise, then spun away from an ungraceful kick. Her fighting was as clumsy as her exercising had been, though, and he took his chance.

An elbow to her solar plexus, a blow across her cheek, but she was just quick enough to avoid any real damage, and even the small pain she had to be feeling only seemed to give her strength. It was simply the way the Sith were: they guzzled fear and pain, even their own, like lomin ale. They got drunk on horror.

She came at him again, speeding up now and seeming to regain her focus, her fists striking hard to his chest faster than he could react. He stumbled backward and almost fell, but she let him go.

Abruptly, something shifted in Revan, her shoulders falling as her face dropped into a numb stare. It was the signal for the terrible fugue states that Revan was prone to now. First, the sense that there was nobody home; then there would be crying or screaming, or an exhausted sort of waving, batting-away motion. The worst times were when she started laughing.

Carth rushed her, grabbing Revan's tunic and throwing her hard to the deck. She looked at him in confusion, her hands a gentle touch on the arm he pressed across her neck.

"He's hurting her again," she whispered, her breath ghosting against his cheek.

"What?" He had her now, he could kill her easy while she was weak and confused under another one of those damn spells -

"Bastila. He's trying to turn her - or lure us into his trap with her suffering - or maybe just... torturing her for fun." She closed her eyes. "Don't do it, please don't do it. I trusted you."

She probably wasn't talking to him anymore; but he still couldn't do it. Not like this, with tears wetting her cheeks, Darth Revan crying for a girl who should never have been forced into nursemaiding a monster.

Carth stepped back. Revan heaved herself up to slump over, resting her head on her arms.

"What do you know about Bastila? What can we do?"

"She's strong. Stronger than she realizes. Did you know she was the one who captured me?"

"You're kidding."

"No. I mean, she had help. I don't remember it all, but I remember - " She coughed, and it turned into a laugh. "There she was, giving me some high-and-mighty Jedi Princess ultimatum, and I was being all dark and threatening - it's in the rule book, you have to learn how to brood if you're going Sith.

"And then my second-in-command fired on my ship, the bridge blew up - and I woke up with half my skin melted off, getting jostled around in a very small kolto tank, stuffed inside some sort of shipping container. I tried to get out, tried to use the Force, but they had me hooked up to something, and my hands were locked in these awful metal sleeves, so I couldn't yank out the needles - could have used my mouth, I guess, if I'd been okay with dislodging the breath mask and drowning in kolto." Revan tried to smile, but it turned into a disgusted grimace.

"Have I ever mentioned that I really hate the taste of kolto?"

She stopped mid-ramble and looked up at him, her face suddenly crumpling into helpless tears.

"Where did Canderous go? Why'd he leave me?"

Carth stared at her for a moment, then slid down to sit against the bulkhead next to Val. The Mandalorian must have been smarter than Carth had given him credit for, and escaped while he still could. Carth wished he could find a way off this ship, too.

* * *

><p>Mission had just beaten HK for the seventh time straight when Carth came out of the cargo hold. He headed into the cockpit, but Zaalbar stopped him, growling a question.<p>

"No - we're going to Coruscant!"

Another growl, and Carth went flying across the main hold. "Big Z!" Mission yelled. "Stop!"

But Zaalbar told Mission to keep an eye on Carth, and that he - Zaalbar - was piloting this ship now.

* * *

><p>Bastila huddled in her cell, trying to ignore the claustrophobia that threatened to drive her mad.<p>

The cell - no prison, really, merely a very large room - stayed locked most hours of the interminable day, except when food came. Or when her new master came to speak with her.

Once, she would have resisted every hint of Malak's superiority. Every time she thought about her friends - Val, Carth, and especially sweet, gentle Juhani - she felt their strength, their love, flooding her. But Malak had shown her the truth of the Force. Light and dark no longer mattered; purity was a child's idea, and emotion was the path to true control. He certainly controlled Bastila's emotions easily enough.

She curled against the wall, in one of the few bare spots available. From here, she couldn't really see the door, blocked as her field of view was by the other occupants of the room.

The alien black statues around her had once been alive - and still were, in a way, she knew that now - but they were beyond all pain. They didn't need hope anymore, and had no use for fear. She envied them, but she dared not touch them.

Their voices soothed her, but they also kept her from any real sleep.

In the center of her chamber there was a small pool, softly bubbling and churning, the sound of the sable liquid one with the susurrus of minds around her. It was so tempting to simply fall in, to relax and let the thrum of unlife sweep her away. The black knew what to do; all she needed would be to fall in, let go, and the black would use her where and how it would. No pain, no fear, no heartbreak or joy. Simply to _be_, and not have to consider _how_ to be...

She screamed as her hand sank into the pool, agony bringing her back to herself. The black lied, she repeated to herself. It promised peace, but she couldn't allow herself to be taken in. Passion was the way back from the black, passion kept you from being used by everyone around you!

Malak stood not far away, a cold smile creasing his eyes.

"What have you learned, my apprentice?"

She stared at him. It all made sense now.

"Peace is a lie," she began.


	17. Lehon: Alliances

**XVII. Lehon: Alliances**

The cockpit wasn't made to fit all of them, but everyone - all but Carth - wanted to be there when they arrived at Rakata Prime. The Lehon system was tiny - only the star and a single planet, with an enormous space station in a far outer orbit.

"Look! Is that it?" Mission pointed out the window, barely able to contain her excitement. Sure, this was the evil Star Forge, where the Sith Lord got his immense automated battle fleets, and they were facing the thing with a tiny merchanter. But Mission didn't want to be anywhere else.

The Star Forge - so dark it was barely visible - was a central sphere the size of a small moon, surrounded by immense stabilizing processor wings more reminiscent of an arachnid or galactic-sized crown than anything technological. It almost looked alive!

"The Star Forge, yes. Pretty spectacular, isn't it?"

"Wow, yeah."

Val glanced down at Mission, her smile somehow forced, brittle. "The Rakata civilization had technology we can't reproduce. They actually managed to use the Force as a power source for that station. They were so far ahead of us, it's crazy."

"Are those Star Forge ships?"

"The things that look like little gnats buzzing around the station - yes. And we don't want to get too close to them yet."

"Hear that, Big Z?"

Zaalbar growled urgently, indicating the alien ships rapidly closing on the _Hawk_.

At the edge of the system, placed to interdict anything that tried to enter, was another fleet of warships, like nothing Mission had ever seen before. One cruiser, escorted by a squad of fighters, was already moving on an intercept course towards the _Hawk_.

"Don't worry," Val reassured them, "these are friends."

Zaalbar grumbled again, doubtfully. He hadn't left the pilot's seat since before they'd come out of hyperspace, and was beginning to look even more scraggly and ruffled than usual.

"We're not in Republic space any more," Val replied. "When Malak and I started exploring out here, we ran into more than a few scrapes. These guys saved our lives."

"And now they work for you!" Mission guessed.

Val paused. Before she could explain, though, a message crackled over the speakers in a language totally unfamiliar to Mission. Which was odd, because even though she only spoke a few languages, she recognized hundreds. Maybe even HK wouldn't be able to interpret these guys!

Val replied to the message in what sounded like the same tongue; a moment later, one of the corvettes drifted up beside them as an escort.

"Follow them in," Val instructed Zaalbar. "Don't deviate from your course, and _don't_ activate any weapons systems."

They approached a much larger ship - dreadnought class, at least - and a tractor beam guided them into the hangar.

"Shall we?" Juhani suggested.

"No. We have to let them greet us. Zaalbar, open the ramp. Everyone, get to the cargo hold - Mission, go wash your face first, but do it fast - and make sure Carth gets his ass to the cargo hold, too!"

Mission sped to the refresher, soaped off the grease stain - what was Val so worried about, anyway? - and bolted into the cargo hold behind Carth, just as the first visitor came aboard.

It was tall, dressed in severe black clothing that looked like a uniform. Short black hair topped a face with dark blue skin and gleaming red eyes. Mission tried not to shiver when those eyes skimmed her own. It gazed a bit longer at Zaalbar, and Mission felt a rush of pride that her Big Z could give even someone like this pause.

The alien said something to Val, who bowed and answered; satisfied, it returned the bow and motioned them all down the ramp.

"Welcome to the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet," Val said as they entered a vast docking hold. The deck and bulkheads were all of some strange alloy that resembled solid ice. "A small part of it, anyway. This is the remnant of the Aied Family militia; they saved Malak and me when we were in a tight spot, so be nice."

"Remnant?" Carth exclaimed, looking out a nearby viewport at the surrounding ships. "This _remnant_ is larger than the fleet that attacked Telos!"

"It used to be twenty times larger."

"Who - what - were you fighting?" Juhani asked - but by now they had crossed the docking hold to meet their hosts, and there was no more time for explanations.

A group of tall, blue-skinned aliens, all with the same blue-black hair and eerie red eyes - all of them armed - greeted them before a set of gleaming blast doors. The central figure bowed to Val, then shook her hand - but to Mission, that handshake looked as friendly as a hug.

"Lady Revan, it's good to see you," the man said in perfect Basic. "We were certain something had gone wrong."

Mission wanted nothing more than to go exploring with Zaalbar while the head honchos did their diplomacy thing, but Juhani put a protective arm around Mission's shoulder as they were escorted to their quarters, ensuring that the girl didn't disappear. The droids were allowed to stay with them without so much as a restraining bolt, as if their hosts weren't sure what to do with them.

Everyone was shown quickly to a single berth containing several cots, a table and chairs, and a refresher. Not much different from the _Hawk_, to be honest, but at least back there Mission hadn't had to pretend Carth _wasn't_ five feet away when she had to use the facilities.

On a whim, Mission tried to open the door out into the passageway, but it was locked. The looks that Carth and Juhani exchanged said they weren't surprised. Zaalbar grumbled about whether they would be fed this century, while HK imprecated doom on the next blue-skinned being he saw - barring Mission, of course, he added unconvincingly.

Carth spent the evening pacing and cursing. Everyone else was getting tired, almost ready to give up and roll into their cots, when the door finally opened.

The woman who greeted them looked nothing like the Val - or the Revan - that Mission had grown used to. Her hair was braided back tightly, accentuating the faint strands of grey that had sprouted at her temples after their time in the _Leviathan_'s cells, and she was dressed in one of the aliens' black uniforms. The stress lines around her eyes had deepened, and for the first time, Mission was intensely aware of how much older than her Val really was.

Behind Val entered two of the aliens, carrying trays of food; a third, the one who had greeted Val so warmly when they boarded, followed in last. Laying the trays on the table, the servers executed quick, polite bows, and disappeared.

The remaining alien smiled at them. "My apologies for the curt treatment. I am Aristocra Aied'rel'nuruodo, but you are welcome to call me Dreln. Your comrade is well known to us; her mission here is also our own. We will let you rest tonight, then we must begin operations in the morning. Your door will no longer be locked, but I have guards stationed outside, and I would ask that any requests you have go through them. Good night."

And with another small bow, he was gone again.

Everyone turned to Val and started asking questions at once.

* * *

><p>So much had happened since she'd last been herself. With every day, every hour that passed, she felt pieces of Revan snapping back into place, while bits of Valena evaporated. It was a relief to be herself again, but she couldn't help regretting the loss of who she'd been, no matter how briefly.<p>

But it was better this way. With Canderous gone, there could only be room for Revan now.

Juhani was still cautiously an ally, though Revan wondered how much of that was due to Bastila's situation; Mission, while enthusiastic, was naïve - but the big Wookiee who followed her was worth the girl's trailing along. Carth... would be a problem. She needed his help, and while it might have been easier to simply get rid of him, the bit of her that was still Val refused the idea. Having Dreln and the Aied by her side again, though, was a breath of fresh air. The Chiss alliance with the Sith had been a lifesaver in so many ways.

But many of Dreln's people - those who'd been stationed on the Star Forge with the Sith troops - hadn't been heard from in months, and "Lord Malak" had been uncommunicative. As Revan explained the problems they were facing, she watched her people's faces. Carth was a closed book, arms tightly crossed at his chest, face locked in a scowl. Mission looked nervously eager, as always, while Zaalbar remained the girl's quiet, dark shadow. Juhani's mind was elsewhere, searching for Bastila's presence in the Force.

For Revan, there were two beacons calling her. One was a dissonant plucking on her bond with the padawan; she couldn't help hearing, _feeling_ Bastila's distress and anger. Those feelings had shaded over into something terrible, though, and Revan expected it was too late for the Jedi princess to turn back to the light.

Very well. She could use a dark-strong Bastila, but only if the girl hadn't been completely broken.

The other siren call was the mind of a man she'd once called friend, heart-brother, and lover. If Bastila had been tainted by the dark side, Malak had been remade entirely into something monstrous, mad, and no longer entirely human. _He could have taken me from the_ Leviathan_, when I was still weak - still Val._ Instead, he'd taken Bastila, a Jedi apprentice in the middle of her Trials, when she was at her most vulnerable.

When had the man Revan had once cared for become a creature for whom torture was a diverting pastime? Torture - breaking - Revan had done it herself, but...

_It wasn't the same_, Revan told herself. _There were reasons!_

_Tell that to the people you used_, Val replied.

_Why don't you just die and get out of my way?_

"Val?" Mission said. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry. Just thinking about our next step."

"And that is...?" asked Carth.

"I think Bastila is down on the planet's surface, possibly even in the heart of the old Rakata temple. Juhani, I want you, Carth, and Zaalbar to get her out. You also need to find the codes to deactivate the Star Forge's internal security."

"What about me?" Mission interjected, but no one answered.

"I'm going after Malak, on the Star Forge," Revan added. A chorus of objections met that statement. "Aitch-kay and Tee-three can come with me, and if you'll stop shouting - Commander Dreln has a squad ready to back me up. As soon as you have those security codes, comm me!"

At that moment, the deck rumbled deeply, almost a moan, and a klaxon began to wail.

"We're coming about!" Revan leapt to her feet, but the door was already hissing open. Ducking in, the Chiss guards ordered everyone to the bridge.

"What's happening?" the Twi'lek girl demanded as the group poured into the bridge, but her voice turned into a whoop of delight.

A Republic Admiral, Forn Dodonna, had hailed the Chiss fleet; the admiral stood to one side on the vidscreen, her face politely expressionless, as Jolee Bindo greeted his friends. Behind him another face appeared.

"Dustil!" Carth and Mission exchanged surprised glances, then laughed. Dustil gave a cautious smile, then disappeared again.

Revan was delighted. Carth would be easier to appease, now - and she and Jolee had come to an agreement at Korriban.

"On behalf of the Jedi Council, of which I happen to be the sole member at the moment," Jolee stated, "I call for your surrender, Darth Revan."

Damn all Jedi and their heroics. This wasn't going to be as easy as she thought, after all.

* * *

><p>An hour later, they were all planetside. The Republic fleet had agreed to parley, and the planet below was the closest neutral ground in the system. Revan wasn't about to put herself in Republic - and Jedi - hands again; and Jolee's feelings were much the same about Revan and the <em>Ebon Hawk<em>.

Rakata Prime was an old planet. The thin, cold air, no longer warmed by an aging sun, had a sour, stale smell to it. Soil had mostly eroded away, leaving gleaming black rock that only added to the evil appearance of the world. Eventually the thin atmosphere would evaporate, and even the ubiquitous, mossy red lichen that was the last living thing on the surface would die. Sensors presented an anomaly, though: the core had cooled, but somehow a magnetosphere remained active.

Luckily, the Chiss had built a base camp at the foot of an ancient Rakata temple that the Sith had claimed. Revan could feel _something_ pulling her toward the temple; she suspected that Bastila - or the person who had once been Bastila - was in there somewhere.

Carth had immediately removed himself and his gear to the fleet, formalizing his defection from Revan's crew. Mission was glaring daggers at everyone, while Zaalbar hovered anxiously over her. Juhani seemed torn between relief and guilt, but HK-47 had cheerfully - and repeatedly - offered his services in removing Onasi from the Republic equation. T3 _dwoo_ed sadly, and had spent all his time since in diagnostic mode, ignoring everything else.

The Republic camp may have looked like a collection of old, used up boxes, but the Chiss base wasn't much better - a few prefab buildings equipped with air, power, and personnel facilities. Revan and a painfully formal Dreln sat with Jolee and Carth in the dining hall, picking at tasteless rations over a pathetic excuse for a diplomatic dinner.

"Destroying the Star Forge outright is out of the question," Dreln insisted for what seemed like the thousandth time. "Its defenses are too good, even for our fleet - _you_ certainly won't get near it."

"And as much as you refuse to believe it, I _don't_ want the Republic fleet decimated!" Revan added impatiently. Bullying the Republic into rebuilding its fleets had been necessary, but the people in charge, it transpired, didn't like her all that much. Funny how these things turned out.

"Tell that to your former apprentice," Jolee growled. The kind, slightly deranged old man had disappeared, replaced by a stern, powerful figure who quite daunted Revan. "He's the one sitting like a fat spinner in its web, waiting. So why aren't you obliging him?"

Revan gritted her teeth. "If you distrusted me so much," she sighed, "then why'd you stay behind on Korriban? You could have kept both eyes on me, waking and sleeping, if you had come with us!"

"I wanted to," the Jedi admitted. "Tried to convince the flyboy to stay and have a happy family reunion - but he wouldn't listen. Too damn stubborn even for the old mind trick."

Carth scowled and looked away.

Jolee pushed his plate away, folded his arms, and smiled grimly. "Your little war did an awful lot of damage, Darth. I know you were a good person - once. Did you ever stop - just stop and think about what the games you were playing did to folks?"

Revan closed her eyes, rubbing cold hands over aching eyes. "Yes," she said simply.

"Then why - "

A klaxon howled, shattering the false calm of the dining hall. Chiss and Republic troops hurried to stations, eyeing each other with open hostility.

"Stand down!" Dreln snapped, while Carth and Jolee echoed the order to their own troops. Revan and Jolee made their way hurriedly to a hastily assembled ops room, where sensor displays clamored colorfully about a small fleet of armed merchanter vessels entering the atmosphere.

"What is this?" Revan demanded of Jolee, "reinforcements?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

They glared at each other, then finally came to the mutual conclusion that neither knew what was going on.

"Well?" Jolee sighed.

The broad plain between the Chiss camp and the far-off, black-sand beach was suddenly becoming a makeshift star port, as ships of a motley variety of keel and class settled into every empty space they could find.

For no reason Revan could pinpoint, she suddenly found her heart lightening, her stomach doing nervous flips.

Hydraulics hissing, the lead ship opened its ramp to release a single figure. Squinting at the harsh sun-glare glinting from the figure's armor, Revan gasped.

Mission and Juhani ran to join them. "What is happening?" Juhani asked plaintively, then snarled. "Are those - dear Force, are they _all_ - "

"Hey, it's Canderous!" Mission exclaimed.

Val felt like her face was about to split in half, she was grinning so hard. In a moment, their small group was surrounded by Mandalorians, armed and armored, good-naturedly spoiling for a fight. Someone in the crowd took off his helmet - _her_ helmet! - and winked at Val; a few pounded on Canderous' shoulders as if congratulating him; and then someone else started up a war chant, and before she knew it, the air around her - the rock under her feet - was vibrating to a primal imperative. She could only stare at Canderous, still grinning like the idiot she felt she must be.

The celebration ended, leaving them in a sudden quiet. "What, there were no florists between here and Korriban?" Jolee asked, his old humor again coloring his voice.

"Shut up, old man," Canderous growled. "Thought you could use some more help, so I dug up a few old friends," he said to Val, indicating the troops surrounding them. He put his arms around her, the first time he had done so in front of any of the crew. Whoops and shouts rose up again, almost deafeningly boisterous. "I think they like you," he breathed into her ear, making her skin prickle with sheer delight.

"It's not _my_ name they're shouting, Canderous Ordo," she replied, and kissed him.

* * *

><p>Val slipped into the starboard berth on the <em>Ebon Hawk<em>, Canderous behind her, and dogged the hatch. When she saw his expression, though, he was no longer smiling at all.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly dreading what he might say. He took her hand again, kissed it, kissed her forehead, too. It was so unlike him, this was all unlike him - okay, the surprise Mandalorians were completely Canderous, but -

He looked at her, looked away, his throat moving as he swallowed. "I've been less than honorable with you, Val. Will you accept my apology?"

She stood there blinking at him.

"I've... been unworthy," he continued, and she realized he was completely serious.

"Canderous, I - what are you _talking_ about?"

He turned away from her, one hand resting on the bulkhead, his face hidden. "The first time I saw you - that meeting in the cantina on Taris. I saw the resemblance immediately, but that's all I thought it was - you looked like her."

"Looked like...? Oh."

"And when I saw you fight, you can't imagine - I'd only once seen a woman so beautiful."

Unconsciously, she touched her scarred cheek; Canderous turned, brushing her hand away, caressing her. "Not that kind of beauty, _mesh'la_," he said with an oddly gentle chuckle. "But you are beautiful." He touched her face again, brushing away the moisture suddenly spilling from her eyes.

"But I fell for you because you reminded me of a woman I knew I would never be worthy of. I loved you for a dishonorable reason, and so dishonored myself, even more when it turned out that she - that you - " His eyes closed, and he sagged back against the hatch. "Forgive me, Val."

Val felt relieved and angry, confused and sad, lost at sea with a compass she didn't know how to use. It didn't help that she still didn't know what to do with herself - didn't know which "her" was real. _You have bested the man_, her reflection had whispered to her in the long nightmare of captivity on the _Leviathan_, and she no longer knew if that voice had been hopeful, or mocking.

But he was here again, and he was strong, and she needed him desperately.

Now she was the one taking his hand, holding it against her heart like a shield. "I remember a few things from, you know, back then. So many years ago. I remember a young Mandalorian son of a bitch who fought me to the edge of my skill and past it, and I almost killed him for it. I didn't, though; I guess I was still a good guy then, right? But it was the way that _di'kut_ - and I knocked him flat out on his _shebs_ - it was the way he just lay there _grinning_ at me like he'd just gotten the best present of his life!"

"I had," Canderous said softly.

"And now here we are again?"

"That's what I thought, at first. You were Revan, and what had I to offer the woman who defeated me - but you were also still Val, and... it took me far too long to realize _that_ was the woman I wanted. Revan can go to hell."

She wiped her eyes again and laughed. "There's really only one thing wrong with us, you know. And I mean really, really wrong."

"What? Val - "

"There's a perfectly good bed a few feet away, and I can't seem to stop sniffling - which is your fault, by the way - and you, _cyar'ika_, are wearing far too much armor!"

He stood silent for a moment.

"I see," he said, his voice grim, but his eyes dancing. "You don't like my armor." He unlaced her tunic, exposing her naked skin, and pulled her to him. His _beskar'gam_ was still hot from the sun, gauntlets sliding smoothly down her back, his gloved hands sliding down further still.

She pulled herself in closer, her lips rediscovering his jaw, his mouth, one leg sliding up to find that it fitted perfectly against him.

His body was all sleek, hard surfaces, sliding firmly against her skin, making her tingle and moan with delight. With one hand still busy, he bit the other glove to yank it off, then switched, and went back to his task. The dual sensation of firm flesh and unyielding armor playing her body against itself was almost too much, and soon she was almost crying in frustrated abandon.

"You don't..." he growled against her neck, "like," as he nibbled along her jawline, "my armor?" and took her mouth with his, biting, tasting, teasing, till she finally broke away.

"Damn you, Mandalorian, I love your armor!" she gasped. "Now take it off before I murder you!"

* * *

><p>Some time later, they were langurously entangled together, relaxing towards sleep, Val's fingers tracing little paths on Canderous' chest.<p>

"I have an apology to make, too," she whispered.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry about what I did to you on Kashyyyk."

Canderous' hand stopped hers, and he shifted to look at her. "I thought you said then that you didn't regret it?"

She blushed. "I wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time, you know."

He laughed.

"Neither were you, and that was my fault. I used that awful illusion on the Terentatek, and then it was bleeding all that fear and hate, and you were just - and I was so scared, and the only way I could think to snap you out of it was to..."

Canderous sighed loudly. He threw one hand back above his head; the other moved to trail through her hair.

"Val, you were defending yourself. Once I was clear-headed again, yeah, I knew what you'd done, but it didn't bother me."

"I'm still sorry I did it."

He rolled to meet her, his large hands fitting her body to his. She felt heat building between them again, and opened herself to him as he moved atop her.

"Normally, I don't like it when a _jetti_ messes with my head. But in this case," he growled as he entered her, setting up a rough and insistent rhythm, making her arch into him, needing more, needing everything that he was -

"Do it again."


	18. Rakata Prime:  Old Friends, Long Gone

**A/N: **Warning: I seem to have gotten some sci-fi in with my space opera. This chapter is unrelentingly _weird_, and the weirdness will continue into the next chapter. Just in case, I'm sticking an explanation at the bottom.

* * *

><p><strong>XVIII. Rakata Prime: Old Friends, Long Gone<strong>

Val stared up at the huge obsidian pyramid. The peak was out of sight, somewhere a thousand kilometers away, or so it seemed. The temple could have been a small mountain, except for the fact that it was so obviously artificial.

It had been built - fabricated? extruded? - from the same sort of black stone that made up the planetary crust; but there were no bricks, no seams, no separations anywhere except at the entry, as if the entire structure had somehow grown out of the world itself.

The black of the pyramid's material was somehow alive, though: it drew the eye, fascinated the mind, and Val forced herself to look away. Around her stood Jolee - he had insisted on choosing the crew, and accompanying them - as well as Juhani and Zaalbar. Mission had been furious at being left behind, but it was for the best. Jolee had refused Val's request to have Canderous on the team, saying he wouldn't have anything to do with the people who had gotten the galaxy into this mess in the first place. _As if_, Val thought bitterly, _Kun and Qel Droma had never even existed._ But she'd wheedled Jolee's personal history from him over two or three hundred shots of Whyren's Reserve, one quiet shipboard evening. Before Manaan, before Jolee had gone hunting ghosts with Carth - before the _Leviathan_, where Val's own ghosts had reappeared.

His wife's fall and subsequent death had been no doing of Revan's - she'd been just a child when Jolee had lost everything he loved. Maybe Val should have left him on Kashyyyk; his bitterness had finally caught up to him, and not even the precious Jedi Code could calm his slow burn. It had taken Val a long time to understand, but the jocular attitude Jolee had worn for so long was nothing more than a mask covering decades of pain and anger.

She couldn't chide him for it. When she'd thought Canderous gone for good...

The black pyramid called her attention back again. She focused on the enormous door, realizing then that it was the very much the same as the door she had gone through on Dantooine, with Bastila, months or years or lifetimes ago. This one, though, was many times larger, and almost seemed alive.

Val tried focusing her mind, tried to call up her anger, but the door didn't budge. Her crew began to fidget around her, and finally she sighed and began to put on Darth Revan the way she had donned her armor this morning - piece by chillingly logical piece, hammered and worn but still fitting perfectly.

The door called to her, and something old and secret within Revan answered.

Dim memories stirred; why had Revan done what she'd done? When she'd spoken with Dreln, he'd been closemouthed, not quite trusting the woman who wasn't quite the Revan he remembered. Val knew, as the door hissed wide, that she would find her final answers within this shadowed temple.

Revan looked at her crew. "I don't remember what's in there, exactly, but it's not going to be fun. Stay on your guard. Jolee, trust your senses: some of the traps aren't the physical kind." The old Jedi nodded warily. "The stuff this temple is made out of - I don't know what it is, but it's not safe. _Don't_ touch it, if you can help it. And no matter what happens in there... don't forget what we're here to do."

A curious breeze brushed by her as they stepped through the black door, but then the door shut behind them, and everything disappeared.

* * *

><p>They had called her a kid again.<p>

Mission had learned a lot about Jedi in the past few months, and one of the things she'd learned was how to concentrate on nothing in particular, so they couldn't always sense your presence if they didn't see you or expect you there.

Jolee had just been this cool old man, always rambling on about the wacky adventures he'd had "when I was your age," and Mission had liked it, she really had. But now he'd been replaced by A Serious Jedi - _A serious nutcase is more like it!_ - and with that came the unavoidable you're-too-young-itis. _Really, where does he get off calling me a..._

Okay, Mission had to admit it. She was a kid.

By Republic legal standards, anyway. But she'd seen an awful lot in her fourteen years, and she'd stopped feeling like a "kid" a long time ago. Besides, Bastila wasn't _that_ much older than her, and she'd already fallen to the dark side and everything - if Val's hints meant what Mission thought they did! No one was letting her go anywhere, or do anything, and now they'd taken Zaalbar away, and _that_ was the very last of a very big pile of straws.

She might be a kid, alright, but this _kid_ knew what friendship was, what family was (Griff didn't count, no sir, not anymore!), and what all that meant. It meant you didn't let your best friend, your furry big brother, go into danger without you going with him.

He looked out for her, and she looked out for him, and that was the way it was going to be, for good and always.

Mission thought about what had happened on Kashyyyk, about what she'd sworn in her heart afterwards, and nodded to herself. She strapped on her stealth generator, and under its quiet hum, slipped off the ship. The ramp had been left open wide - so the terrible-horrible-evil Darth Revan wouldn't be able to conquer the galaxy again while no one was looking - making it easier for her to slip out. She mentally laughed at Carth's distrust - _Who's the kid now, huh?_

She followed the others to the imposing temple, trying to ignore the way it made her skin crawl. Val gave her little speech, and as soon as the door opened, Mission slipped in before everyone else.

So much for everyone leaving her behind!

* * *

><p>Jolee found himself in a large, richly decorated dining room. Silver wall fixtures held dancing lights; a long table was piled with an unending feast of fruits, meats, and candies. Music played softly, strings and bells and a sweet, solitary flute.<p>

At the far end, a lone figure stood, waiting for him. _It's going to be like that, then?_ he thought with a bitter grin. He walked closer, the figure resolving into a woman wearing Jedi robes. He wasn't a bit surprised to see that the whatever-it-really-was wore Nayama's face.

The thing pretending to be his wife smiled at him.

"Heh. That the best you can do?" Jolee grunted.

It wasn't a _bad_ simulacrum, but he'd seen better. He'd seen her a thousand times a night, every night, from his last days at the Temple, to the dark nights on Kashyyyk, to day after day watching, suspecting, confirming, on the _Ebon Hawk_, until the chance came to go to Korriban, to have his -

"Revenge?" the thing asked, still smiling. Her eyes shone with sympathy.

"You really think you're something, don't you?" Jolee growled. "You'll have to try harder than that to get me to turn."

"Turn? Into what?"

"For a dark side vision, you're not exactly very smart, are you? Then again, most dark side visions aren't all that snappy to begin with. All 'Rule the galaxy!' and 'Claim your power!' Don't you ever get any new lines?"

The thing wearing Nayama's face laughed, looking slightly down the way she always had, high color in her cheeks, with her hair falling over her eyes just so. She was good, Jolee had to admit. No, it - _it_ was good.

"Look, why don't we just get this out of the way. You offer me theoretically irresistible temptation, I obviously resist like the beacon of radiance I am, you curse and sulk, we fight, I win - you disappear. That's the way this is going to play out, so just skip the boring stuff and get on with the disappearing, will you?"

She didn't disappear. Once again, he wasn't surprised.

"I'm not a dark side vision, Jolee." She cocked her head to the side, and Jolee resisted the urge to put his hand to her cheek, run his fingers through her silky hair. "But we can play that game later, if you like."

"For something claiming to not be dark, you're doing an awfully good job at making me want to go Jedi on you."

"I'm not your wife, either, but you already knew that. You want to touch me - or kill me - I understand that; biologicals are always so tricky, but this was the best way to reach you."

"Biologi - _what?_" Okay, now he was surprised. Funny how life never stopped being interesting, even when you sincerely wished it would _stop doing that._

The ornate room faded into the comfortable darkness of wroshyr trees. "Would this setting make you more comfortable?" she asked.

Jolee raised his eyebrows and stared at her. She sighed in apparent frustration. "All right, then."

The forest vanished with a jolt. The dining room stayed gone. They stood in what looked like an endless plain of black stone; above was a red sky misty with strangely geometrical clouds of dust, while flashes of lightning lit up the horizon. Wisps of fog drifted by, and he noticed uneasily that they were really swirls of tiny numbers.

Far above, in a fractal sky, a tiny Star Forge hovered, waiting.

He'd eaten some fairly interesting things in his long stay on Kashyyyk, and had some fairly interesting visions. But this was a little over the top, even for him.

Where the thing pretending to be Nayama had been, there stood an alien. He thought it was an alien, anyway, but he wasn't prepared to make any final judgments in a place like this. Oddly bulging eyes jutted out to either side of a conical head; below the bare slits of nostrils was a small, delicate-looking mouth. The body was humanoid, except that it stood on clawed hooves instead of feet, and its skin and clothing seemed to be made of the same frightful black substance of the temple he had just entered.

_Don't touch it_, Revan had warned. Either he had somehow come in contact with the stuff, or simply walking in had triggered whatever trap this was. If it wasn't Revan's trap to begin with.

As if it could follow Jolee's thoughts - which it probably could - the alien shook its alien head. "Do not blame Revan. She sought us out, yes, but only out of curiosity - or so she said. Many of the curious have come over the eons, but very few have left. They find it comforting to stay, and they become part of us."

Lightning spiderwebbed across the sky, as electronic impulses blew here and there. Jolee tried to imagine what it would look like to live inside a vast, intelligent computer brain; it might, he decided, look very much like this.

"You - are you...?"

"We are the Living Empress. Our mighty Infinite Empire survives." The creature stretched out its arms, and a vast, shining city stretched out behind it. An uncountable multitude of other Rakata shimmered into existence, silhouetted behind the first.

"Your empire? You're not even _real_."

Again the creature changed. "Reality is subjective," Nayama said. "Revan understands this better than most."

"Revan," he snarled. "What do you know about her?"

* * *

><p>The walled-in streets and dingy back alleys of the Taris underworld closed around Juhani like a cage. The dim lights seemed very high and far away, the people passing her much too tall. She looked down to find herself a little girl again, all gangly legs and over-large feet, with more trouble than one Cathar youngling should ever have survived.<p>

She tried calling out for her mother, her father - but her father had been killed in the Mandalorian invasion, and her mother had died not long after. Juhani had gotten used to being alone.

_Hush my daughter_, a voice sang softly, as little Juhani trailed through forgotten streets, searching. That was her mother's voice!

_Hush my daughter_  
><em>the night is swift and silent<em>  
><em>the moon will bring you prey<em>

The old lullaby she had purred to Juhani, all those long years ago. Back then, Juhani didn't even know what a moon might look like.

She followed the voice into the increasingly dark and squalid sectors of the lower streets, the undercity, the sewers.

_Hush my daughter_  
><em>the night is swift and silent<em>  
><em>my love will hold you dear<em>

Something about the voice was so strange, though - not her mother's voice any more, but so familiar. Love - her mother had loved her, she knew. Her father had, too, for she still had the faintest memories of him, her tiny fingers wrapping around his great mustaches as he laughed and growled and played. She could almost hear him now...

But there was someone else, someone who needed her urgently. Someone she loved. Not exactly the way her parents had loved her - though that was part of it - but the way her parents had loved each other, so long ago. It made her happy to think that what she felt, they must have also have experienced.

_Hush my daughter_  
><em>the night is swift and silent<em>  
><em>the stars will show the way<em>

Taris didn't matter anymore, she thought as she crawled through a broken hatchway into a stinking tunnel. Everything was growing smaller now, as her form shifted away from childhood. No more finely dressed humans smelling of fresh meat, clear water, and that strange, delicious aroma she had later learned to associate with the warmth of daytime. She had escaped!

Escaped, found the Jedi, only to be trapped again, but this time there'd been no way out, because she had killed -

_Hush little hunter_  
><em>the sun brings dawn arising<em>  
><em>and you will have no fear<em>

- Quattra! But her old Master was alive after all, and she'd left Dantooine afterwards to return to Coruscant, so maybe she still lived even now. She could almost see her...

But Juhani couldn't worry about that anymore, she had to worry about Val, and her friends, and the figure huddled inside the grimy cubbyhole, rocking herself and crying.

"Bastila?"

The girl paused in her singing, looking up at Juhani. "You came for me! Oh, Juhani, I thought - but you're here. You're here. Hold me."

Juhani knelt down beside the woman she loved, put her arms softly around her, and began to sing to her. Everything was going to be all right, after all. She could stay right here, forever, in this moment.

* * *

><p>She had slipped by everyone! Mission was so intent on congratulating herself that she almost missed the strange black statues in the alcoves as they entered. She wondered if she was the only one who thought the statues were watching them - but of course, she couldn't very well ask, not without giving herself away!<p>

So when the temple interior warped and shifted and disappeared, taking everyone else with it, she really only made a very tiny squeak of surprise! And then something grabbed her, and of course she fought back, and -

"Let go of me, you big, dumb - oh, uh - hi, Val. Um. What are you _wearing?_"

Val was dressed in something not even Griff's old girlfriends would have been caught dead in. It was _purple_, and parts of it were see-through, and the bits that weren't looked like they were made out of some sort of very shiny armor. Mission figured Canderous probably would have liked it - and then fervently hoped Val hadn't caught what she was thinking!

Val let go of Mission's arm and glanced down at herself. "Oh, good grief." And then, with a wave of her hand, she was dressed again in that black uniform. Mission decided that had to be the handiest Force power she'd ever seen.

They looked around: surrounding them were long stone walls with an oppressively low ceiling above, in a narrow passageway. Around them the tunnel split off into side passages, some more brightly lit than others. Val closed her eyes, her lips moving as if she were talking to herself; finally she nodded in some kind of decision, and smiled.

"Okay, Mission, you decided to come with us, so _you_ get to go find everyone."

"Find - you mean, I have to look around all through this maze - by myself?"

Val just laughed at her. "You're the one who wanted in on this crazy mission."

"Hey! I hear a comma in there, and I don't like it!" She sighed and nodded. "Okay. How do I find everyone?"

"This place... it isn't real. It takes you to wherever you most want to go, to see the people you most want to be with, to do the things you've never gotten the chance to do."

"Wow. Nice vacation spot!"

"Yeah, except that you may never get out. You may never want to get out."

Mission shivered. "Who would build something like this?"

"The Rakata did. A long time ago. When their empire began to die, and all their client races started rebelling, I guess they just got tired of it all, and built themselves a place where they could have everything, forever."

"But it's not real!"

Val smiled. She looked sad. "Life without death, love without loss. Isn't that the reality we all wish for?"

Mission thought about things, noticing a cool, white mist beginning to surround her. The Rakata, she concluded, were big babies, no better than Griff. He was always looking for the easy way out - and this ancient, grand civilization had _built_ itself an easy way out. As the mist occluded Val and the labyrinth, she decided that it was a helpful little mist, and it was going to take her to wherever her friends were.

Jolee would be easy enough. She'd overheard him once, talking with Val about his long-dead wife, so that was where he would be. Juhani maybe wouldn't be quite as easy, but Mission had a theory about her. And Big Z - well, Mission knew exactly where he would want to go, and she was going to save him for last. Big Z deserved to have a long time with his dad. Even if it wasn't the real thing.

* * *

><p>Rwookrrorro in the early morning was beautiful and perfectly silent. Zaalbar waited, sitting on one of the common benches, whittling a small bow for his small cousin. Soon enough, the village would wake, and his father would need his help. His clansmen were still rebuilding after the Czerka debacle, and there were still trials to be held, the last of the conspirators to be rooted out.<p>

He missed Mission, though. The little Twi'lek, so frail and young - but she had heart. More heart than ten Chuundars, that was certain. She should have been born a Wookiee.

He would see her again someday, though. She would be plump, and smiling, and surrounded by her own children; the idea made him indescribably happy.

Footsteps, quick and urgent, sounded on the platform, and Mission appeared through the early morning mists as if summoned by his thoughts. He set down the unfinished bow and caught her as she leapt into an exuberant hug.

"Ha! I knew I'd find you!"

What was she talking about, finding him? he asked. She didn't always make sense, but he always did his best.

"Well, I found Jolee first, he was easy. Hey, did you know he used to be married? And then I found Juhani, and she and Bastila are so totally a thing! They're so cute it's disturbing. And now I found you."

She looked around for a moment, then sat down beside him. "It's really pretty here. Really peaceful. Is it like this in the mornings on the real Kashyyyk?"

Zaalbar wondered how long he'd been here, carving this bow, waiting for - what? He looked down at his hands, empty now, the bow having melted back into the mist. Slowly the rest of his world began to dissolve, until there was only the small, dark doorway that had been the entrance to his father's hut.

He felt Mission's hand on his arm and looked down at her.

"You'll make it back, you know. I'll make sure of it! You're not the only one with a life debt, after all."

He covered her small hand with his own.

* * *

><p>Val could sense Mission, in a dim sort of way - could sense each of the others. Either the Force existed even here, or the Rakata had done a damn good job simulating it.<p>

Val wandered through the passage till she felt a pull from down one side tunnel. She followed that strange pull, turning again this way and that, until she knew she'd never be able to make it back out on her own. But there would be other ways out - though how she knew that, she didn't understand.

There it was: a door, a light behind it, knowledge waiting to be regained.

"Wait! Val! I need your help!"

She turned, surprised, as Mission reappeared behind her, seeming to coalesce out of the darkness. "Jolee says there's no way he's leaving, because his wife's here, and he can't leave her behind! Please, come with me!"

She was already running to meet the girl, when she realized that Jolee, of all people, would never be fooled by this place.

"Why are you lying to me, Mission?" But almost before she could finish the question, Mission's body had elongated, sprouting wings and fangs, turning black like the stone of the temple. Val cut the creature down as it flew at her, and its body dissolved into the ground.

Val thought she heard someone else calling her name then, but when she tried to find the source of the voice, it disappeared.

She turned back to the doorway, but it, too, was gone. Concentrating, Val followed her senses again. She worked her way deeper and deeper into the maze, until Carth met her at another crossway.

"I've been looking all over for you, Val! Your pal Dreln said someone had to come in after you, and I was the only one left of, well, the rest of the crew."

"Dreln? What did he need? And how'd you find me?"

"I - he - oh, hell. I'm sorry, okay? No one sent me after you, I just... well, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am. For everything."

"You didn't need to come after me to - wait, why are you even here? You should be off in Rakata Paradise, or something. Don't tell me I'm your dream come true!"

Carth chuckled disarmingly, brushing his hair out of his eyes to hide a blush. "Uh. Well, actually, Val, there's... something I've wanted to say for a long time now, and - "

His head fell at her feet, the neck smoking from her blade. The body dissolved before it could crumple, but Carth's face smiled charmingly up at her a few moments more.

Val shuddered. "Ugh, really?" she asked the empty air. "That's really the best you can do?"

The doorway she needed had disappeared again, but now the voice she'd heard was more urgent. It was so familiar, but still so far away!

She listened as she walked, torn between finding her doorway again and following the voice's urgency.

_Val..._

It seemed to be coming from the same general area as the pull of her doorway.

_Val..._

She was running now, frantic to get to that so-familiar voice - she knew who it was now, and what it might mean if he became as lost as the rest of her crew.

"Val!"

She spun around, running smack into Canderous.

"_Udesii_, _cyar'ika_!" He gripped her reassuringly, his grey eyes questioning. "What's the matter with you? You looking for a fight?"

"No, I'm looking for the information I need so we can all get out of here, but the fragging Rakata keep moving it!"

He surprised her with a kiss, his tongue teasing her until she was breathless. "_Udesii_," he said again, almost purring as he held her close. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing deeply, enjoying his scent. "Look, you can find your damn door later," he suggested. "For now, let's just sit back and relax. Forget about the war - we've earned a little peaceful vaca - "

Her light saber blade took him under the jaw. His body stiffened, then went limp in death, then faded into mist.

The doorway opened in front of her, barely visible through her tears. She stepped through, and remembered.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES:<strong> Yes, it's a nod to Dragon Age, specifically the Fade section where you have to un-trap everyone. And it's a nod to some of the silly conventions of video games in general.

Go look up Nick Bostrom's "Are We Living in a Simulated Universe?" No, really, go read it. And then good luck sleeping tonight!

The basic idea is this: Say you have phenomenal cosmic powers. What do you do with them? Well, you can figure out how your ancestors lived by making a computer simulation of them. We already use computer simulations for climate models and cosmology, so hey, it's possible to do. (Also, 42.)

Given the idea that someone may have done this, and that the occupants of their simulated universe may have done the same thing, and on and on, the chances that we _aren't_ living in a simulated universe become vanishingly small.

But, y'know, if _I_ had phenomenal cosmic power, I wouldn't simulate my ancestors. I'd simulate a universe where everything worked _right_, dammit, somewhere I could go - if I had the technology to upload my consciousness to my handy supercomputer, and I already mentioned phenomenal cosmic power - somewhere I never had to go hungry, or be unhappy, or (Force forbid) be _bored_.

This is what the Rakata have done. Your guess is as good as mine as to whether it's a good thing or not.


	19. Empire of Dreams

**A/N:** If you're still with me after last chapter's weirdness, thank you! This is the beginning of the end of the story; hopefully all the dominoes I've been lining up fall down properly. Also, feel free to laugh at my clumsy attempt at a battle scene. (It's probably the only thing in this chapter you'll be able to laugh at.)

* * *

><p><strong>XIX. Empire of Dreams<strong>

Reality, unreality, and simulated reality met, merged, and fractured. Jolee kept his eyes and his thoughts centered on the small, fragile figure lying prone at what he had arbitrarily designated the horizon. But the nature of the Rakata Empire confused and betrayed him every moment.

Mist spun and parted, ethereal matter taking shape from reminiscence and desire. He saw Nayama again and again, her form lithe and tempting, or gravid with his own fears and regrets. Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma called to him, challenging him to do battle - or to join them. Every mistake, every lost chance, every good memory he wished he could have made...

He put one foot in front of another. He'd been doing so for unending decades.

At some point Jolee noticed that the Wookiee had joined him, Mission close as a shadow. An awful shame, what had happened with old Freyr and Chuundar. _Family should never be forced to choose between each other, and doing the right thing._

Juhani appeared on his other side, her face ashen and drawn with pain. A ghostly Bastila trailed behind her, crying, pleading with Juhani not to leave her. Jolee wrapped his arm around the Cathar girl, and they kept walking. The cries trailed away into laughter in the distance, melting into Nayama's song, Freyr's happy roars. Finally memory, hope, and dream all released them, and they stood huddled around Revan's sleeping form.

Eyes opened, the color of sunset, and Mission gasped in dismay.

"Wait!" Juhani urged her, though, as Jolee knelt to cautiously grip Revan's hand in his own. She blinked once, twice, and the laughing warmth of Valena's eyes returned.

Her fingers tightened around Jolee's. Her other arm curled protectively around something that glowed in a disquieting rhythm. A holocron. She saw that he saw it, and he bent close to hear her whisper. "You know, then?" He nodded. "Everything?" she insisted. He hesitated. Nodded again.

"Help me up. We've stayed too long already!" Her words seemed to be a catalyst: The nonexistent ground began to shake and tremble, accompanied by the faint echoes of unfamiliar voices raised in alarm and anger.

One moment they were surrounded by the bright, colorless ether that was the elemental stuff of the Rakatas' simulated universe; the next, they were standing in the temple interior again.

* * *

><p>"Ow! <em>Ow!<em> What is this stuff?" Mission complained. Val shook stubborn, black droplets of material off her boots, as everyone else did the same. Zaalbar growled, trying to shake the awful, stinging substance out of his fur, but stopped in surprise as the goop slid cleanly away.

"Don't just stand in it, step away as quick as you can. The Rakata called it _vulancis_, and built most of their civilization around it."

Val looked around. Everyone was climbing out of small alcoves, the liquid form of the dangerous black stone-stuff around them draining away. On either side of her, Val found more alcoves still occupied: Ancient Rakata, fossilized in black, their alien faces serene.

"Those... aren't really statues, are they?" Mission guessed.

"We seem to have escaped just in time," Juhani remarked.

"I'm sorry," Val said, grimacing. "If I'd remembered the danger in there - " The ground shook again, and they heard screams from somewhere outside. She clutched the holocron to her chest with one hand, readying her lightsaber in the other.

Zaalbar pointed out that while everyone was standing around, the planet was under assault.

"Impossible!" Val insisted. "The Star Forge protects - "

Another roar shook the temple - the pitch of a bomber's engines as it made a pass overhead. The sound was one Revan was intimately familiar with.

"Malak! The Star Forge! He's attacking the base!"

Another rumble, a hiss, and light speared into the vast chamber, illuminating vast columns of black statues, the last of the Rakata people, forever sleeping in their infinite empire.

Harsh commands, the sound of booted feet running - Val's lightsaber sprang to life as a squad of Sith troopers opened fire.

Taking a fencer's position to protect the holocron, Val repulsed the shots. Her blade spat fierce flame, slicing the air as it sent blaster bolts screaming back against their attackers. Her fellow Jedi were doing the same, Juhani screaming something in Cathar - then Val heard a roar of pain and rage from Zaalbar.

"No! Big Z!"

Most of the Sith shooters were down, blaster burns smoking through their armor. The last one laughed, and a crimson blade sprang to life - but furious lightning lashed out, burning the life out of the Sith before he could bring his lightsaber to bear against it. He, too, slid to the floor, smoke curling lazily from his body.

Someone cursed softly as Val turned in surprise.

Zaalbar huddled in grief over a small, blue body. His shoulder was bleeding freely from a bad hit, but he didn't seem to notice it.

"She was protecting him," Jolee said, his expression bleak and broken.

Juhani shook the last angry sparks from her fingertips and limped towards the black door.

* * *

><p>Carth threw himself to the side as the soldier next to him vanished in a plume of smoke and blood. Around and below him, Republic and Mandalorian troops had banded together to defend their position, after Sith ships had begun a surprise bombardment.<p>

Someone roared something in Mandalorian - it was Ordo! - and a wave of armored savages charged the enemy lines. Behind them, the Aristocra's men stood fast, the Chiss firing in precision formation, reinforcing each other perfectly when anyone went down. Over comms, Carth held the Republic troops fast, ordering them to be ready to split into a flanking formation, should the Sith break through.

The enemy had invaded the area around the massive temple structure, using it as shielding and redoubt on the alien landscape. For now, Carth and his sniper squad brought up the very rear of the allied troops, on a slight rise beyond the blaster fire and bombardment.

The Rakata temple structure seemed to rumble and shake, and suddenly the fighter-bombers broke away, streaking up to vanish behind the clouds.

Now the Mandalorians were taking ground, their armor absorbing immense amounts of punishment from enemy weapons, their sheer cussedness preventing them from giving an inch.

_No wonder they almost won the war_, Carth remembered bitterly.

Behind the enemy, the temple portal opened again. Bodies clad in shining Sith armor flew back as if from an explosion. Carth saw - he was sure it was old man Bindo, lightsaber flying furiously, batting away blaster bolts and slicing through flesh with wicked precision.

Revan exited behind him.

Carth sighted on her, the scope of his precision pistol showing her face pale, the bitter scars red against her skin. His finger tightened on the trigger as she gestured one-handed at a Sith commander; the man staggered, then began cutting down his own troops, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The alien girl dove out, her body whirling with acrobatic grace. More troopers fell back as she joined her efforts with Bindo's, Revan still casting her damn Force spells everywhere.

The Mandalorian line - now fully joined by the relentless Chiss - washed over the enemy, and soon the Sith were in total retreat.

Carth checked his own line, but the sniper squad around him were holding position as he'd ordered. He spoke into his comlink, sending the pincer troops out on cleanup duty. There would be no Sith units leaving this planet today.

He reacquired the bead on Revan.

Ordo strolled up to her, slapping backs and nodding at his folk as he came. A good commander, Carth noted; he'd have to keep a wary eye on that one.

Revan greeted her Mandalorian curtly, it seemed, shying away from his hand like a startled animal. Ordo looked past her, his smile fading.

He bowed his head, and threw his repeater to the ground with what looked like a savage curse.

The last members of the temple party appeared. Zaalbar shuffled out into the light, carrying a body.

* * *

><p>Someone found a length of cloth for a shroud, and someone else produced several entrenchers.<p>

Val and her crew weren't the only ones burying their dead on the beach; Republic soldiers and medics mingled freely between triage lines, the Chiss loaded their casualties for retrieval, and the Mandalorians were clustered half a klick away around a large pyre - but no one from outside the _Ebon Hawk_ crew dared come anywhere near them.

Val's shovel couldn't bite easily into the gravelly black sand, but she wasn't about to take a rest - not when Zaalbar was making that terrible sound with every breath. His wounded shoulder was bound up with a precious kolto poultice, but he'd insisted on digging, and the bandage was already stained dark with blood again.

A pair of Republic soldiers had tried to help, at first, but they'd been the only ones. The Wookiee had picked one up and hurled him several meters away, while the other scampered out of the way. "Why hasn't someone caged that _thing_?" she asked with a snarl - but one look at Val's face told her to take herself somewhere else.

Finally it was done. A mound of unnaturally smooth black stones marked the grave, though Val couldn't imagine anyone else coming to this abandoned world to mourn over unnamed dead.

The stars came out reluctantly that night, but they seemed to soothe away the last of the dust. The wind soughed off the smut and battle ash from the hard obsidian ground, as it stirred the sand where they watched over Mission's grave.

Jolee sat, head in hands; Juhani lay curled up in unpeaceful sleep. Zaalbar... she felt his presence off near the soft breaking waves, looking out toward the horizon at the shimmering point that was the Star Forge. Carth was the only one to meet her eyes, but he quickly looked away again.

A calloused hand took her own as Canderous sat down beside her.

"Mission Vao," he said quietly. "Jagi Vhett. Ornos Vhett. Lakshmi Skirata..." She realized he was reciting a list of names, the dead he had known and lost through all the wars he'd lived through. Val listened as the list lengthened, and her throat began to burn with tears. He had known so many good people - they all had. After a while, she noticed that Jolee was whispering his own names, while Carth's lips moved in the same name, over and over. Juhani had woken, watching them silently, tears wetting the soft down on her face.

Valena thought she had no names of her own to add. Then, hesitantly, she said, "Master Zhar. Master Vandar. Master Vrook. Master Dorak."

Footsteps crunched through the darkness. Dustil sat down beside Carth.

"Dad. I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>She woke the next morning feeling movement. Sitting up, Val saw that Carth and Juhani were gone, but Zaalbar was sitting nearby, Jolee speaking to him quietly. Next to her Canderous sat, his shoulders moving repetitively as he honed his small gauntlet blade.<p>

"We need to get going," she said reluctantly.

The Wookiee stared at her blankly, but Jolee nodded. "It's time."

"Time for what?" Carth strode back into the group, looking tired but ready. "We can't exactly just walk onto the Star Forge; there's a fleet of ships between us and it."

"It's time," the old Jedi said as he rose with a grunt of morning pain, "for me to go speak to the Empress again."

Val looked away, her jaw clenched.

"Empress? What Empress? What are you - Val, what's he talking about?"

She looked down at her empty hands, then back up at Carth. "The Rakata Temple. The Infinite Empire. The Star Forge. They're all connected. If you're Force sensitive, you can see it, sort of, like strands of light reaching out from the peak of the pyramid."

Carth glanced around at the distant structure, then back, as if he'd expected to be able to see something.

"The Star Forge was never built for conquest," she explained softly, "but millions died anyway. They're all up there, imprisoned inside, crystallized neural pathways used for memory storage, for operations, for... a connection to the Force. The Jedi might say that the Forge was built around a vergence in the Force - but the vergence is simply all the people it used."

"And this is important, why?"

"I guess to you, it isn't," she snapped. "But the point I'm trying to make is that the Star Forge exists to protect this planet - the Temple especially - from invasion. That's why the Rakata disappeared, because they all went either to power the Star Forge, or... into that Temple. Happily ever after. But if Jolee goes back in, talks to the Living Empress, then maybe he can get that link shut down, and the Forge can be moved."

Carth paled. "Moved... where?"

"Out beyond the rim, I'm guessing," Canderous offered. "What's out there?"

She picked at sand grains under her fingernails. She itched everywhere, now that she thought about it. What had possessed her to actually try to sleep on a beach, of all places?

A pebble shifted on the grave.

"What was that story you were telling... telling Mission, a while back, Canderous? About chasing pirates through an asteroid belt? And then something that looked like another asteroid, but it wasn't?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"That was a scout."

Zaalbar stirred, scratched his head.

"I don't get it," Carth complained. "A scout for what?"

"Something the Chiss have known about for a while now."

Jolee inhaled sharply, and nodded. "I see now. That's what this has been all about. Revan, Malak, your conquest - you had no intention of setting yourself up as..."

Val shook her head. "I'll admit, it's tempting. Unlimited power, get the politicians to finally shut up, everyone has to do my bidding. But then, what would happen if the Chiss failed? No, the war was to get the Republic to rebuild its military as fast as possible." She laughed bitterly. "And then my dear apprentice went crazy, and we wound up in this mess."

She could almost hear Mission and Bastila arguing with her, putting in excited interjections or suspicious comments. But as if her thoughts were a trigger, she suddenly felt Bastila's mind touch her own, power and anger and urgency all pulling at her, questioning, demanding.

Val jumped up and looked around. "Juhani! Where is she?"

Carth scowled. "She went back to the _Hawk_ hours ago. She said she - oh, hell." They all ran out to where the _Ebon Hawk_ had sat, beyond the ruin of ships, close to the Rakata temple.

The _Hawk_ was gone.

It must have escaped damage, somehow, in the battle the previous day, but the Mandalorian ships weren't so lucky. None of them looked spaceworthy any more, but Val knew there were still two fleets of Chiss and Republic ships, plenty of shuttles to ferry everyone off to war.

"Jolee!"

His dark face was grey in the morning light. "All right. Let's get this over with."

Enemy bodies had been cleared away, burned or buried in detail after the casualties had been cared for. Loose sand and dust swirled at the base of the pyramid, kissing its surface, singing against the black stone. It was a somber day, and the expressions of Val's crew matched the feeling in the air.

Jolee touched his hand to the base of the pyramid, then drew back with a pained hiss. He looked back at Val, who stepped forward to trigger the entry.

She needn't have bothered: the door opened with a sigh as soon as Jolee came near, as if it expected him, welcomed him.

Impulsively, Val hugged him, not wanting him to go, but knowing he had to. He returned the embrace with a warmth she hadn't expected, dropping a kiss against her cheek. "I'm sorry for being such a suspicious old bastard," he said.

"Don't worry," she replied softly. "They're my friends, too."

"Heh. Even the Mandalorian." The lines between his eyes deepened, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Never say no to love. That's where the Jedi went wrong. Love will save you, not condemn you. Remember that - Val, Revan, whichever one you are. Remember that."

"I... " She looked at the others for a moment, tears blurring her vision. When she looked back, Jolee was gone.

* * *

><p>The black door closed behind him like a mouth.<p>

Jolee felt the siren pull of the Infinite Empire on his spirit, dreams and promises singing to him, but he drew on the reality of the Force to protect his mind. Somehow there was light here, faint but omnipresent, as if the air itself were aglow. To both sides, the walls stretched up, inverse tiers that finally joined at a point beyond the limits of visibility; covering those walls, though, inset at every available space, were rows and columns - whole fields and vertical plains - of what looked like obsidian carvings.

Calmly he walked along the rows, until he came to the end of the passage; it branched off to both sides, revealing more of the unsettling figures. Jolee walked until he had a good mental layout of the place. It was a labyrinth of walls and corridors, each inner turn climbing higher than the ones to the outside, each utterly covered and crowded by the grim statuary.

He stopped to study one. Unlike most of the black icons, this one was not Rakata. A tiny Chadra-fan stood, one small hand outstretched as if to touch something, a look of surprise - or delight - captured on its snub-nosed face. An explorer? A dream seeker? A little lostling enchanted as in an ancient legend?

Shaking his head, he walked on, further up and further in. After a few minutes - or perhaps a century or two - Jolee reached what seemed to be a throne room, the topmost chamber, where the ziggurat walls ended in a peak some few meters above him. The pressure on his mind eased.

In the middle of the room there was a small fountain bubbling with black liquid. What had Val called it? _Vulancis_. Along the walls stood more dark statuary, each armed with what looked like a ceremonial spear. On the far side of the room, a frightening figure was seated on a beautifully carved throne. All were wrought of the same obsidian _vulancis_ substance that the entire planet seemed to have been made of. It was utterly alien, but at the same time it had the regal aura of a queen, or an empress.

"Welcome, Jolee Bindo," the Living Empress said. "Have you returned to join me?"

He didn't think he had been taken by the dream, but the term "living rock" had never made more sense. The being seemed to move, to flow and change and yet remain changeless, and perhaps her lips had moved when she spoke, or perhaps he had finally gone mad.

A brittle whisper, a scraping that pierced and agonized the air, and the alien slowly rose from her throne. She was connected by liquid wires - or stone-solid veins - to the throne, the walls, the ceiling above. Jolee had the sudden thought that the pyramid itself, or maybe even the whole strange planet, was a part of her body.

Jolee stood and waited. She approached him, reached out, didn't - quite - touch. "Did my dreams not please you, master Jedi? When last we spoke - "

Ah. That was why she seemed tantalizingly familiar. This, he understood, was the Nayama-thing. " - you tried to trick me by pretending to be my wife," he finished for her.

"Your wife, yes. This... pains you."

She looked away. Her form, he noticed, was subtly shifting. Not concealing her Rakata shape - those strange, sidestalk eyes, the domed head - but her figure became more humanly feminine, even delicate.

"Let us speak, then, of why you are here."

He took a step towards her. "Revan. The Star Forge. She needs it."

"It defends my children."

He motioned around the room. "Children? These statues? Why do dead things need defense?"

"The stone keeps them safe, yes, but they are not dead. Once you step into our substance, our world, you are eternal."

"Eternity? A simulation. Wake up, Empress: the real galaxy outside of your dream world is in real danger!"

She turned away from him, the vein-things rustling and sliding around her, skittering along walls and ceiling like an insect's legs. "We came to this galaxy to escape war. We brought with us the means to ensure eternal peace for all who wished it. You refused us; you drove us from your worlds and systems, and we were forced to create our Star Forge to keep you from destroying our Empire."

Unthinking, he took her by the shoulders to shake her, to do something to force her to recognize the danger. But his body erupted in agony as soon as he touched her.

"Hush, sweet one. Your passion speaks eloquently, but it has betrayed you."

Knocked to his knees by the crushing pain, Jolee concentrated on simply breathing, exhaling and inhaling, until his body was his own again.

"I see in your mind that the galaxy no longer remembers us. How the ages have passed us by," she mused, and there was a sad, satisfied curve to her alien mouth. "How, then, did Revan find us?"

"The Star Maps," Jolee groaned as he staggered back to his feet. "They showed the location of the Star Forge! Lady, if you wanted to be left alone, you shouldn't have left so many breadcrumbs!"

The Empress laughed. "The Star Maps don't show the way to the Star Forge, sweet fool, they point to our Infinite Empire. We want peace, yes, but we hoped some of your people would find their way here. Those who did are the bravest and the best, and we love them well."

He was an old man, and there was no place to sit anywhere in this damned monument.

"Very well," the Empress said after a long pause. "I shall release the Star Forge. But I require payment, Jolee Bindo."

He was an old man. An old man, and every muscle and joint and nerve ached. But maybe, if the Force was kind, maybe he'd still be a Jedi - be himself - in that terrible dream. And _she_ would be with him again, as if she had never died. Even if none of it was real.

"I know," he replied, his voice cracking. "My credit account is all full up."

She walked back, each step a chorus of shifting, grating hisses as stone flowed over stone, and placed herself back into her throne, relief humming through the _vulancis_ around him as if a joint had popped back into a socket.

"We value love, and joy, and pain, Jolee Bindo. You have lived these, often and well. This is your payment, then." Where the Empress had sat enthroned, now there was a living stone cast of Nayama. "This is your payment, my darling. Share your joys and pain with us. Live, and die, and live again, until there is nothing left."

The black fluid bubbling in the fountain erupted, gliding out into an oozing puddle that found Jolee's boots. More and more of the stuff coughed itself up, pooling and climbing around him. He fought panic as the touch of the stuff renewed that terrible pain, as his clothes burned, reformed as stone, as his skin and bone was transformed and replaced, muscle and nerve and life crystallizing in agony.

The dining room was decorated in lovely colors, all his favorite dishes set out with artistic flourish. Across the table, Nayama smiled at him.

* * *

><p>Deep beneath her feet, Val felt a rumble begin. Flakes of stone shrieked, cracking into shards, as the pyramid gnarred and thrummed, ancient machinery coming to life after uncounted millennia.<p>

"Get back!" she warned, dodging the sharp, flying slivers as the Temple began to move. Everyone hied themselves well away, glancing back in awe and horror as the massive black structure shrank into the ground, groaning and hissing, clouds of gas venting into the air. Somewhere in the camp a siren began to wail, screeching against the roar of the shaking earth. People were pouring out of the Chiss base when Val and her crew reached it, personnel of various species hugging the walls, hanging on to friends and strangers, frantically wondering what was happening.

The peak shrank below, and Val could sense the great strands of Force energy flickering out of existence as the crust moved to cover the gaping hole in the planet where the immense temple had once stood tall. The shaking and roaring went on and on, alarms shrieking, beings shouting. A shuttle lifted off, then another, barely avoiding collision as they made for the relative safety of space.

Finally it was over. Someone managed to silence the awful klaxon. The quiet that followed was suddenly broken by sharp calls to comrades and friends, ensuring that everyone was okay. Val's hand found Canderous', and she laid her other on Carth's shoulder. He looked over to Zaalbar, who nodded, then Dustil appeared, and everyone was hugging each other, glad to be safe.

She looked over to where the temple pyramid had once etched itself against the sky. There was nothing there anymore but featureless obsidian ground.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> I'm sorry. Have some kleenex. Have some hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows. Have some puppies and kittens and ticklish penguins.

I placed a warning a while back about the story going pretty dark, and this is what I meant. But I hate it when writers warn about character deaths, because it amounts to a Major Spoiler. I hope I haven't driven anyone away. I _can_ promise no more crew deaths (unless the final chapter or two - I'm _that_ close to finishing - really take me by surprise). I can also promise that Mission and Jolee continue to matter.

It always bothers me that, as much as I love BioWare games, they really never kill anyone off. I know, you can lose people in Mass Effect 2, but only if you haven't done all your preparation and chosen the right people to lead your teams. Do everything right, and no one dies! But people die in extreme situations in reality, and I wanted the story to reflect that.

Mission was one of my favorite characters in the game, and to write. Her spunk and joy always made me smile. But someone had to die; I originally meant Carth to go, but he wasn't playing along, and it wound up being Mission. She can die in the game if you play dark, but I wanted her death to have real impact and meaning, not be just another murder on the way up (or down) the Force path.

Jolee's death was less of a surprise to me. I'd always planned to have him depart the mortal coil, and in a way that was at least as much driven by his own despair as by duty.

This was probably the hardest chapter to write of the entire story, so far.


	20. The Star Forge

**XX. The Star Forge**

Juhani remembered now what she had learned so starkly, a thousand years ago on Dantooine.

Pain is power.

Her own sorrow was nothing. She'd become so inured to the terrible cost of war - losing her parents, losing her homeworld, believing she'd lost her master - that Mission's death was barely a blip.

But Juhani knew that Bastila was watching them, that Bastila had seen what had happened - a girl not much younger than either of them had been alive, and was no longer - and she could feel Bastila's shock, as close and raw as her own should have been.

It was a tiny candle next to what the Wookiee was pouring into the Force. Juhani had no choice, really: she could tap Zaalbar's anguish for the power to conceal herself as she slipped away, or she could... what? Sit and wait for Bastila to be slain?

Poor Mission, some small part of her mind acknowledged. Part of growing up, of course, was realizing that you had to help others; and Mission had certainly grown up. She'd proved it when she'd saved Zaalbar, using her own body to shield her friend when he was wounded.

The moment was etched in her mind, but it was oddly empty, meaningless. The child was alive, and then she was not. Juhani's universe had not shattered. Or perhaps it was already broken beyond repair.

There was still only one focus: find Bastila.

* * *

><p>Val woke in a strange bunk, then remembered that everyone had loaded up with the Chiss.<p>

Beside her, Canderous slept on, his breathing peaceful and unbroken. She smiled, feeling the pleasant ache of the previous night's passion in every part of her.

His head lay next to her shoulder; his legs curled below hers like a pillow. She studied the lines and scars on his face. You didn't expect something as pretty as eyelashes on a Mandalorian, she told herself - but there they were, light brown, each one a separate exercise in arcing perfection; their graceful shadow was illogical against his rough skin, like the sun shining bright during a storm.

She found herself wondering what he might have looked like as a child. What their children might have looked like. That was a pain she kept tight inside herself, something she could never share.

The Mandalorian stirred, but she soothed his waking mind with the Force. Then she rose, dressed silently, and left him to his dreams.

* * *

><p>The little utility droid piloted the <em>Ebon Hawk<em> as well as it had sliced the security on the Leviathan. There had been a fright in the beginning, when the Star Forge ships had begun moving towards them in what looked like an attack pattern, but T-3 sent the Star Map codes blaring out at them on the subspace bands, and the ships had backed down.

Juhani sat in the copilot's seat, not because she had any idea what to do with the blinking and beeping controls in front of her, but because she couldn't stand staying anywhere near the other droid. HK-47 would be a problem when they docked; he might even present himself to the Sith: his loyalty was to Revan alone, even though she and Canderous had paid for him; but the _Ebon Hawk_ had left Revan behind.

No, Juhani needed to think, and she couldn't do that around the verbal sniping of the assassin droid.

T-3, plugged into the navicomputer's control port, trilled a note of concern at her.

There had been that terrible night, after Revan - after _Val_ defeated Darth Bandon, when Bastila had raged at the older woman, and Canderous had oh-so-smoothly put Bastila down. The Mandalorian's sly and disgusting insults had wounded the padawan, and Juhani had spent hours coaxing her back towards her centered calm.

The turmoil in the Force after Bastila's capture was anything but calm. Now, though...

Val hadn't had one of her terrible seizures since their arrival in the Lehon system, and the Bastila-place in Juhani's heart was still again. Cool, and patient, and frightening.

It frightened Juhani, too, that she had abandoned her friends to go after the padawan. They were all headed for the Star Forge already, weren't they? They all intended to save Bastila, didn't they?

She hissed an ironic laugh. Here was Juhani the Redeemed, once again walking the dark path of dangerous emotions, while the woman who had been Darth Revan would serenely sacrifice however many people it took to save the galaxy.

Maybe not serenely, not Val. But Val - Revan - would do the right thing, Juhani knew. Or as right as anything could be in this whole, awful mess.

_Mission_, she thought, and her heart finally broke for the girl.

Which of them was light, and which dark? Did it really matter anymore?

All Juhani knew was that she had to save Bastila, and the rest of the galaxy might as well burn.

* * *

><p>Val sat alone in the observation lounge of the <em>Aied Ascendant<em>, thinking, dreaming, remembering. After the attack by the Star Forge bombers, most of the ships grounded on the planet - the Mandalorian assortment, as well as Chiss and Republic small craft - had no longer been spaceworthy.

She couldn't trust the Republic not to try and arrest her again. Carth was in close communication with Admiral Dodonna, and he promised support, but still...

He and his son were on more than just speaking terms now. Mission had given them that much. Val smiled at the surety that the girl would still have found something to gripe at the two human males about.

A door whispered open; footsteps beat a cautious, respectful rhythm toward her. "Aristocra Aied'rel'nuruodo's compliments, Lady Revan," the steward said, and hefted a security case onto the low table in front of her.

"Convey my thanks," she replied. He bowed and left.

Val stared at the security case. The seal was still intact after all these years. Dreln had taken good care of it, as she'd requested. After a moment, she laid her palm on the ident pad on top; it scanned her fingerprints and pricked her finger for a drop of blood, then beeped pleasantly. The lid clicked, releasing the latch; the suppression field deactivated.

_What if I had never come back?_ she asked herself. _What if Malak had succeeded in killing me? What would they have done?_ It was a moot question now.

The protective synthsilk bag slid off soundlessly, and Val drew her prize out. Starlight streaming through the bank of viewports glittered off the smooth surface; the T-slit visor stared at her accusingly.

She could have led the galaxy to war with this - Republic, Sith, and Mandalorians, all united under her rule. Even the Jedi, or what remained of them. She'd have brought the Chiss in line, too, and no enemy would be able to defeat her.

Billions would die for the peace she could bring them.

Val wrapped the Helm again carefully, and placed it in back in the case, locking in with it the holocron she'd retrieved from the Rakata temple.

She knew what she had to do.

* * *

><p>"I don't know your Admiral Dodonna, but she advises me that her forces stand ready to assist." Dreln cocked an eyebrow at Val, making his statement a question.<p>

"Not sure I ever met her," Val admitted, "but Carth says she's good people, and I trust him."

Carth's eyes shifted to hers, and he nodded shortly.

"Very well," Dreln said, "then here is where we stand. We have the codes from Revan's Star Maps; sensors picked up the _Ebon Hawk_ broadcasting those codes as your compatriot neared the Star Forge, and the guard ships stood down. That was only one small vessel, though. I don't expect the same again, especially not with two fully armed fleets challenging the installation's defenses.

"Admiral Dodonna will spearhead the assault; once she has their attention, my forces will be free to engage. The Republic ships will open a corridor just long enough for the _Ascendant_ to slip through."

He indicated the holomap of the fleets surrounding the Star Forge, then the image zoomed in on a docking bay.

"Canderous Ordo, your Mandalorians are our shield. Expect fierce resistance once we're inside. We must get to the central control room, or all of this will have been for nothing."

"_Oya_," the big man replied with a grin.

"Zaalbar."

The somber Wookiee growled a response.

"You and Lady Revan will find Bastila Shan. You will neutralize her, if needed. Revan, if you can find your friend Juhani, good - we could use another of your Jedi. If neither one is salvageable - "

"We'll do what we have to," Val assured him, putting the Force behind her words. She fully intended to rescue her friends, no matter what - but Dreln didn't need to know how far she was prepared to go for them.

"My people will secure the control room once Malak is no longer a problem," the Aristocra continued. "Revan, I know you value your companions, but we are short on time. Malak is a formidable foe, and I hold no illusions about the ability of my people to defeat him."

"Malak was Revan's _apprentice_," Canderous sneered. "He's not the same quality."

Val sighed. "He defeated me once already. Don't take him lightly."

"Defeated you? He used treachery and deceit to take you out from a distance!"

"Treachery is the way of the Sith," she reminded them all, looking from face to face. Canderous subsided with a grumble. "Trust your instincts," Val warned, "and trust each other; don't let your guard down for an instant. Remember that this is the man who trained Darth Bandon. Expect the unexpected."

As everyone left to ready themselves, Val stopped Dreln for a moment. "Thank you for taking care of that little matter for me. I'd like you to hold on to it for just a little while longer. And just in case - if I don't make it back, I've coded the security case to open for you, and left instructions inside."

He nodded to her, and she walked out, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

* * *

><p>She awoke in pain.<p>

Juhani had only a vague sense of where she was - somewhere in the Star Forge - and what had happened - the ship had docked, she and the droids had exited, ready for combat, and then...

"Awake, my apprentice?"

A cold hand touched her face; she could smell Bastila's faint perfume, a scent of despair, anger, and a wild, desperate hope. She opened her eyes, but still couldn't see anything. The voice laughed, and she realized that it was not Bastila's.

Juhani felt her body being lifted with the Force, though she was still too disoriented to use it herself, and placed on a hard board of some sort. Strong hands secured Juhani's wrists and ankles in hard metallic restraints.

She screamed as cold fire licked at her right hand. Some part of her mind finally registered that she was naked, the restraints scraping, the hard surface below her unforgiving on her flesh. The incredible pain magnified every discomfort, until her skin felt like it was being peeled away at each contact point, until her body felt like it belonged to someone else.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, and she was left feeling oddly light, as if she were made of air. "Now you have a taste of it. Next time you will be prepared. Concentrate, and feel."

The strange voice was as gentle as it was cruel, and Juhani shook her head, crying. "Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?"

"No time for questions yet, dear apprentice. Now brace yourself."

* * *

><p>Huge ships lumbered in a slow dance, coherent light dancing between them like lightning flies. Hammerheaded cruisers fought alien dreadnoughts with gigantic, gaping firaxa jaws. A powerful mind expressed confusion and despair, and the Republic ships fell back, several exploding under the unforgiving barrage.<p>

Somewhere, a Chiss aristocra spoke quietly to a Republic admiral, reforming plans as their respective fleets reformed for another attack.

Stars spun and shifted, and someone laughed hideously, while a young woman - two young women - could only scream.

* * *

><p>Again the pain vanished, leaving Juhani's nerve endings echoing in empty distress. She gasped for air, thirsty for a respite.<p>

"You sensed much, I can feel it. Describe it to me!"

"I - please - what are you doing to me?"

An electric hiss, and Juhani's muscles arced and screamed. She didn't think anything could have hurt worse than whatever had been eating her hand. "I... felt something. The battle? Valena! Malak - please!"

For the first time, Juhani realized that it was Bastila's voice in reply, not her own.

"Yes," Malak growled. "Good. Again, and this time, concentrate on the Star Forge ships. What do you sense from them?"

* * *

><p>Val stretched out her feelings as another shock chudded into the <em>Aied Ascendant<em>. She could feel Bastila's battle meditation at work, inspiring panic in veteran pilots, commanders, and engineers who had come through recent wars hardened with confident experience.

_Bastila!_ she sent through their much-abused link. _I know you're out there - stop fighting us!_

A sense of detachment, as if Bastila were looking down on her, adrift in hatred and despair. Beneath that, she could taste panic and a great yearning.

Val's head whipped around, staring out of the bridge viewscreen at the ships defending the Star Forge. There had been a voice - rough and familiar, castigating, pecking away at all her flaws with dry and unforgiving wit.

She reached out further, her mind touching the ships, searching. There was nothing _alive_ there; no crew, only the faint sense of mechanicals, not unlike the endless electrical hum of droids or computer brains.

Another voice, and another - one sad but resigned, others expressing an achingly sweet pride in Valena - and she almost knew who they were, their names on the tip of her tongue...

Beneath them all sang the ancient minds of Rakata slaves. There was no pain there, no fear or joy. Only the black.

* * *

><p>Her scream became a snarl this time, and Juhani struggled against her restaints, struggled against the Force that held her there. She remembered her anger when Quattra had forced that clumsy confession from her, and the coldly formal letter from the padawan she'd thought she loved.<p>

She had tried to kill Quattra, had regretted it ever since.

_Not this time!_ Juhani told herself. In her mind's eye, Bastila's lovely face was blemished with pale yellow eyes, the skin desiccated with dark power. She shoved the image away, and chose another one.

In her mind's eye, Juhani had obsidian hands - Bastila's hands - reaching across a planetary orbit. She stretched out and took hold of the predatory cruisers, using all her strength to turn them against the very installation they were meant to protect. A final, desperate effort in the Force, and the shields around the Star Forge melted under its own ships' assault.

There had been pain, somewhere. It was gone now. She opened her eyes.

* * *

><p>The bridge exploded in shouts of alarm and disbelief.<p>

"Now! They won't be turned for long!" Dreln barked. He toggled the shipwide comm. "Assault troops, prepare to disembark!"

Val rushed to the troop bay as inertial compensators fought the sudden acceleration. The Chiss and Mandalorians were already there, the former lined in neat rows, the latter to the front, heavily armed and armored, their boots ringing on the deck plating.

Canderous gave her a nod, then went back to barking instructions at his men. She tried not to think about the fact that they might not both survive the next few hours.

* * *

><p>Juhani found herself lying on the floor of a large chamber. Around the walls stood obsidian sentinels, a few humanoid, many similar to the statues inside the Rakata temple - but none had the expressions of serene happiness. Some covered alien faces with their hands; others looked as though they were frozen mid-scream.<p>

At the center of the room was a small pool of a familiar black liquid.

Bastila lay on a board next to the pool, all but her right hand strapped down. The hand crept out again, as if of its own volition, to plunge itself into agony again. Juhani could feel a strange mental pressure, rhythmic as if someone were speaking words she couldn't quite hear, and she realized Malak was controlling Bastila through the Force.

She had to move fast.

* * *

><p>"Hey, <em>jetti<em>!" It was the Mandalorian woman who had winked and smiled at Val before, that day on the beach. Her _buy'ce_ was tucked under one arm; her broad face under short red hair was dusted with bright orange freckles, making her look younger than the creases around her smiling eyes allowed. "_Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ak kyr'amur!_"

"Yeah - Malak," Val called back.

"_K'oyacyi!_" the woman laughed. "Stay alive, and we'll let our _vod'ika_ keep you!"

More laughter from the other Mandalorians, and she and Canderous exchanged a smile. Then the chatter ceased as docking clamps rumbled and clanged, airlocks sealed, and the bay doors opened into hell.

* * *

><p>Trembling with exhaustion, Juhani unstrapped Bastila, then carefully lifted her away from the board. She looked for clothing, a blanket, anything to give the young woman her modesty, but Bastila didn't seem to care.<p>

Something made the entire station shudder, and the pool of _vulancis_ at the center of the chamber rippled with echoing distress.

With the last of her energy, Juhani searched until she found Bastila's mind, struggling and wounded, but still strong enough to take Juhani's mental hand. She came up gasping for air, for life, and let out an awful noise, half human scream, half atavistic growl.

"Malak won't be a problem for long," Bastila promised, her eyes alight with fevered hatred. "He thinks I serve only him!" She rose with Juhani's help, clutching her as she tried to walk towards the door. When they tried it, though, it was locked. "Revan - Force help me, I've served Revan all along!"

"Bastila, you don't know what you are saying! Val doesn't want to be that person anymore. When Malak was - you should have seen her. Your torture was terrible for her."

"Valena," Bastila pronounced the name with precise derision as she limped back towards the sinister liquid. "Don't you know? Didn't she tell you?"

Juhani stared. "Tell me... what?"

More distant explosions. Bastila knelt by the pool, dipped her fingers in, hissing at the pain, but she smiled. The veins in her hand seemed to writhe and pulse black as Juhani watched in disquiet. The door opened silently.

"Revan. Surrendered." Bastila drew away from the black fluid, and her hand seemed normal again. "It's why Malak turned on her - Revan tried to surrender her fleet to the Jedi, to the Republic."

"But you fought her! The stories, the vids - Val told us about her dreams and memories!"

"Of course we did! Would _you_ have believed Darth Revan, yielding?" Bastila explained. "Now come, we must get you safe." She reached for Juhani, but it was the Cathar woman who took hold of the human, fighting to stay on her feet after whatever it was she'd done to turn those ships.

"Safe? Bastila, _I_ came to save _you_!"

Bastila smiled, stroking Juhani's face. "I don't need saving, not anymore." Neither woman spoke for a long moment. Bastila's diamond-hard smile sliced at the Cathar's heart. Closing her eyes, she let the last of her desperate grip on the Force drain away. She had absolutely nothing left.

"Then," Juhani said, slowly kneeling, "if I cannot save you, I will join you. I will help you destroy Malak, and then..."

"What? No! Juhani, no, you can't do this, you don't understand what it's like, please!" She pulled Juhani up, clutching her again in desperate denial. "Let me go," she whispered. "I... "

"No," the Cathar growled fiercely. "I have walked the dark path before, and I _do_ understand. Where you go, I go. Whatever path you choose, I will follow. Turn, and I will turn to meet you, always. And I shall never betray you."

"You would," Bastila breathed. "Eventually, even you would." She sobbed. "How could you love me? - it was my pain, and I forced it on you! Please - please forgive me." Her hands covered her tears, then said, almost as if she were taking to herself, "Why is it so dark in here?"

Gently, Juhani kissed her. Bastila's lips were warm and soft, but somewhere beneath there was strength. There had to be strength. "If we are Jedi," Juhani said, "then I forgive you. If we are Sith - pain is power. What are we to be?"

"Two fools, it seems. But fools together."

Two red eyes gleamed in the shadows beyond the door. "Satisfied statement: Fools indeed, meatbags. But Malak will have only one apprentice. Gleeful warning: It is the way of the Sith."


	21. Darth Malak

**A/N: **My sincere apologies for the lateness of this chapter! It simply did not want to be written; it's still not quite _there_ yet, if you know what I mean, but I've fixed as much as I think I can without breaking my brain too much. We're really close to the end now, and trying to untangle the relevant plot tangles is a bit stickier than I'd anticipated.

* * *

><p><strong>XXI. Darth Malak<strong>

Juhani peered through the viewport into the small room. Val lay on the small bed, her chest rising and falling slowly, as if every breath was another battle. The Mandalorian sat near her, unmoving.

"She is a strong woman," said the blue alien, Dreln.

"You knew her well - before...?"

"I did," he affirmed. His dark blue skin and disturbing red eyes made it difficult for her to read his expression, but Juhani thought she saw sadness there.

"What was she like? Revan - before she became Val?"

* * *

><p><em>Two days before...<em>

The Sith assault broke against a wall of Mandalorian iron.

As the last Sith trooper fell, Carth's precision pistol took out the Rakata battle droids. "They sure didn't make very good droids," he remarked as the last droid collapsed, its spidery legs flailing in every direction.

Val dealt with an injured enemy before he could rise again, then indicated the eerie, silent watchers lining the corridor. "Why build machine intelligences, when you can capture living minds to do your work?" Each statue stood on a short pedestal, liquid _vulancis_ running in narrow channels beneath them along the base of the wall: black blood flowing through the veins of the station. Some pedestals stood empty, and Val wondered if the Rakata had eventually run out of slaves.

She looked around, comparing their current position with the holomap of the station she'd memorized. "This is where we jump off," she said. Juhani and Bastila weren't far away, but their minds were frighteningly quiet.

Zaalbar and Carth exchanged nods of respect and encouragement. Canderous gave Val a long look, as though promising something.

One of the Chiss separated from his squad, and came to join them. "I'm Cazen. Aristocra's orders, I'm your support."

Val bit back what she really wanted to say, and thanked him. Apparently Dreln didn't trust her not to hare off on her own - he knew her too well.

The passages within the Star Forge snaked through a labyrinth of statuary-lined corridors, ramps opening over thousand-meter drops, and large galleries crowded with yet more sable Rakata.

They came on another room, ubiquitous black fountain bubbling in the center; beside the pool there was an odd board or table, empty but for a series of broken straps.

This chamber was populated, not only with strange alien statues, but also with what looked like they had once been humanoid. Cazen swore softly, the first time Val had ever heard one of that stoic species display less than perfect composure.

The Aristocra had mentioned missing units stationed on the Star Forge; now they knew what had become of them. She wondered if any of them would make it out alive to bring him the bad news.

The Chiss soldier looked at them, but Val got the feeling he wasn't finding what - or maybe whom - he hoped to. He cautiously touched one of the black sentinels, then drew away with another pained curse.

"Are they real?" he asked Val. "Are they... them?"

He cocked his head as if listening to half-heard music, drawing close to the central pool where the liquid _vulancis_ burbled softly.

"It's really them," Val confirmed sadly. "The substance... it fossilizes, crystallizes, whatever you want to call it - your body, your internal organs, your entire nervous system - the bioelectrical signals that make up your knowledge and memories are preserved."

He looked at her sharply. "They're still alive in there?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do for them."

Cazen's alien face hardened. "Which way from here?"

Val closed her eyes and extended her senses. "They were here," she said, "in this room." She looked at the table again, and an echo of pain made her hand cramp and twitch. "Something's happened to them, to both of them."

She felt out again, searching. Val could feel Bastila now - or was it Juhani? - but now it was Bastila again. Their two minds seemed to have become so intertwined that Val couldn't tell them apart. _What are they doing? Where _are_ they?_

The corridors were quiet, deserted except for the occasional obsidian sentry. Val felt the pull of Bastila's desperation urging them on. Somewhere beneath that, Juhani's voice whispered _Hurry, hurry_, making Val's heart hammer and skip.

Something else stirred in her mind, a dark force that threatened to undo everything she'd worked for, hoped for.

* * *

><p>Dreln's face shifted into something that could have been a small smile. "Revan was strong. Logical. Unemotional. Highly intelligent. Quite an extraordinary sentient."<p>

"For someone not Chiss, you mean?"

Dreln acknowledged that with a sardonic nod.

Juhani blinked doubtfully. "That... doesn't sound much like Val. She was always laughing, or crying, or trying to think up some bright idea - which usually was not very bright after all. She was not... not as intelligent as Revan, I think."

* * *

><p>They came at last to a vast chamber, the largest they'd found yet. Some quick mental calculation brought Val the realization that they were now at the heart of the Star Forge.<p>

Though this had to be the central control, there was no instrumentation, nothing to show how the station might be operated. But Val knew the computers and technology behind the Star Maps were primitive, for the Rakata.

Bastila and Juhani were close now, along with the menace boiling through the Force.

Solid _vulancis_ statues stood guard at evenly spaced intervals around the room. Veins of liquid black pulsed between them, running in thin channels that cut a mesmerizing pattern in the deck. In places where the pattern was broken, where no figures stood, there waited instead pedestals inset with small pools of liquid obsidian, anticipating future occupants.

"They're watching us... aren't they?" Cazen remarked, his voice faint, his mind seeming light years away. Zaalbar gave a low rumble of concern. The feeling of threat grew stronger and colder.

Val felt the figures around them whispering in her mind, pleading with her to run, pleading with her to stay - to join them. She wandered through them, touching them, accepting the pain each contact brought.

At the center of the enormous glyph was a circle of statues. Several humans, a male Twi'lek, and a small, stooped figure with outsized ears. They didn't look like they had struggled; instead, they seemed... accepting. As if they'd known what was to happen, and had agreed to it.

They'd been captured, not killed - but her teachers had been so powerful in the Force! How could this have happened?

This shouldn't have been possible, her Revan voice said, and Val agreed. Jedi didn't go meekly into the black. Did they?

"The Force was strong with them," a harsh voice said. "But their power feeds me, now."

Somehow Val had known that this would come to pass, was _meant_ to come to pass.

He still bore those tattooed horns on his scalp, a youthful indiscretion that had earned him disapproving stares among the Jedi, but provoked startlement and fear in what Darth Malak had always considered "lesser beings." And his jaw - the jaw that Revan herself had mangled and broken when he had first challenged her - the clumsy metallic implant replacing his lower face as well as his vocal chords was as disfiguring as she remembered.

For a long time, Revan hadn't let herself believe that his once-rakish looks had been the foundation of her friendship with him; hadn't acted on her attraction to him until long after they were both no longer Jedi. By the time Revan and Malak admitted the feelings they'd once had for each other, though, it was far too late. Every kiss she'd shared with him had been a calculation.

More explosions sounded in the depths of the station, coming closer now.

The distraction was enough. Malak ignited his lightsaber, Val stepped in to meet him, and twenty years of memories, of friendship and mutual respect and shy hints towards something more fell away into ashes.

_I've been here before._

The Force itself rose up against her, channeled through Malak's sheer strength and will, channeled through the Rakatas' dark side technology. Val tried to hang on to the Force, but it had been stolen from her, shaped into something monstrous.

_Vulancis_ whispered sickening promises. Someone screamed, but she couldn't spare a glance, not with a blood-red dual blade inches from her throat, grey eyes once full of hope and determination now glazed over with hate.

Val tried to hang on to the light, but it was so weak here. "I'm sorry," she said, and shoved Malak away with a frantic pulse of the Force.

He caught himself easily, laughing. "Sorry? What, sweet Valena, are you sorry for? Do you regret not dying when you had the chance? Or perhaps you have discovered that it was Jedi lies, always _Jedi lies_, that created you!"

He closed again, and Val defended again in a flurry of desperate blows and Force-assisted parries.

Laughing, he backed away, reaching out one hand; dark power flowed into his fist from one of the pools, and Malak seemed to grow somehow, become more solid, all the gravity of a small black hole pulling reality into him.

Val's mind shattered - every time she had doubted herself, or done the wrong thing, every time someone had gotten hurt because of her. Darth Bandon - the boy that had been Darth Bandon - died again and again, pitiful Selkath victims cried out from where her lightsaber had left them in pieces.

Malak laughed at her tears, and grew in the Force again, bloating himself on the Star Forge's power.

"Why do you still fight for those pathetic creatures of the light, when you could take up the mantle of the dark side again so easily!"

Black stones trembled on a black sand grave. Something was inside, digging its way out, and it would come looking for Val.

It was all an illusion, but Malak was so much stronger than her - too strong for her to cut through the horror, too strong to defeat alone.

On the far side of the galaxy, three figures appeared. Two were injured, while the third walked stiffly and held a blaster rifle to cover them. They wove behind stars, through the scattered statues; Val couldn't take her eyes off her opponent, but she knew HK-47 had captured Juhani and Bastila.

On the other end of existence, a single armored figure appeared, and then another, and then a whole group. Suddenly she was _there_ again, inside the Star Forge, her memories swept back into her mind where they belonged.

_I'm more than Revan_, she told herself, _and I'm not alone!_

She looked at Malak and saw the shadow of an old friend, and she smiled.

"Your first mistake," she told him, "was in thinking that the Val personality came from the _Jedi_."

* * *

><p>Dreln glanced at Juhani, meeting her gaze with his crimson eyes.<p>

"There is much of Revan in your Valena - and much of Val was in my Revan, though she always tried to tuck those parts of herself away. She never put much stock in emotion, as much as that Sith code she went on about praised 'passion'. Quite admirable. Used her emotions, yes - but I think she understood that giving in to them would have made her weak, made her easy prey."

"Prey for what?" Juhani asked, discomfited. "Val made it this far!"

Dreln's eyes glowed in the dim light. "Perhaps not for _what_, but for _whom_."

* * *

><p>Cazen was still screaming.<p>

He broke away from Zaalbar, who had been trying to restrain him, and ran wildly through the confusion of statues.

Malak laughed, and attacked again, using Val's horrified distraction to beat her down. His lightsaber clashed and growled against her own, and she tried to reach out to Cazen in the Force, but found herself laid out on the floor, parrying one-handed as she scrambled away from Malak's red blade.

"Val!"

"No! No! Zaalbar, Canderous stop him!"

Something burned through Valena. Her lightsaber clattered to the floor, its blue blade extinguished, and rolled away.

A searing red brand pinned her to the floor, stealing her breath. She heard the awful sound of a man weeping, and looked for Canderous, but her eyes settled on Cazen instead.

The Chiss made a noise like a wounded _reeku_ bird, raising his hand to touch a statue resembling himself. Brother? Son? Val wasn't sure it mattered anymore. Cazen's face cleared, and he nodded, then walked over to an empty pedestal.

Juhani and Bastila had collapsed to the floor, watching as Cazen coughed and shuddered. The Wookiee tried to pull him away - but _vulancis_ had already taken Cazen's legs, and his shrieks were stifled as it climbed, as his heart and breath and finally his mind were taken from him, captured and preserved forever.

Val tried to close her eyes, but even that was beyond her.

Canderous stood horrified, his face grey and sickened. He took a step toward Malak, but stopped, clutching his head as the Sith Lord's dark visions began to assault him in turn.

The pain was overwhelming, that red slash of hell still boiling through her. Val wanted to scream, tried to concentrate on breathing. Someone was trying to tell her something, but there were too many voices, too much blood and horror.

"Surrender, Revan. You _may_ survive the wound. I shall spare you, and your friends. You shall know life eternal, the peaceful slumber of the Star Forge."

_Go away_, she thought, _and just let me die._

Malak took a cautious step away, the vicious sizzle of his lightsaber pulling out of Val's body. The others were closer now, and he gestured toward them. "Droid! Bring the captives here!"

"Affable agreement: Of course, Lord Malak."

* * *

><p>"Sometimes," Dreln said, "it seemed that there was only one person Revan truly feared."<p>

"You are speaking of Malak?"

"Malak? No. I believe she only truly feared... herself."

* * *

><p>She stared up at him, trying to think through the agony in her gut, trying to reconcile the memories crowding her mind - his innocent laugh, the light in his eyes, the way he used to look at her when he thought she couldn't see him.<p>

Canderous was screaming. Soon he would be like all the others she had ever known and loved.

_Master Zhar. Master Vandar. Master Vrook. Master Dorak._

_Mission and Jolee._

_Cazen, whose full name I never learned._

Her mind touched _vulancis_, and she heard their voices again.

Canderous had fallen silent now, collapsing to the floor, but Val found herself strangely calm. Somehow she found strength, and her lightsaber rolled back into her hand. The answer was there, had always been there. She wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much.

What was it that Master Zhar had told her, so long ago back on Dantooine?

_A Jedi who loves greatly can twist the Force as surely as one who hates greatly._

She reached into the Force, and twisted.

* * *

><p>Juhani and Dreln watched as, in the small medical bay, the Mandalorian bowed his head.<p>

"He seems to care for her a great deal," the Aristocra observed.

"Of course," Juhani said. "We all do. Did you not care for Revan?"

He coughed. "Revan... did not encourage warm feelings in her companions. She was utterly cold, utterly ruthless. Sticky things, attachments. I was under the impression your Jedi Order forbade such emotions?"

The Cathar laughed. "We are none of us the Jedi that we were," she replied.

* * *

><p>Val found her strength again and rose weakly, her sweat-slick lightsaber unlit and uncertain in her hand. "Do you remember when I kissed you, that night on Malachor Five?" She drew on the memory, handing it to Malak like an unexpected gift. "I never told you, but it took me two weeks to work up the nerve to do it."<p>

He looked confused, startled, and unsure. "Revan..."

"Please," she whispered, and gave him Revan's memory of his smile. "Alek," she said - and he was there with them, that hopeful young man talking about doing what no one else wanted to, beating back the invasion, saving Taris. He'd been a hero to her then. She gave Malak the light in his eyes, the way his mouth moved against her hand months later, somewhere under a triple moon.

Darth Malak stood frozen.

Val took a wobbly step towards him, reached, touched. Her fingers stroked the cold metal where his strong jaw should have been. "I wish I had never done that to you. I wish we hadn't lost each other." Her vision blurred with tears, and it was as if his face was whole again. She shared that with him, too, and his gloved hand came up, tentatively, to touch her hair.

_Pain is power._

"I wish you hadn't forgotten why we had to do what we did."

Somewhere, a blaster shot rang out, then another. Glazed, half-closed eyes snapped open to stare at her. Her lightsaber pressed against him like a kiss.

She thumbed it to life.

* * *

><p>Juhani looked at Bastila. Bastila looked up at HK-47. The droid - his blaster rifle still smoking, still aimed at Darth Malak - looked over at Canderous, who was rising carefully to his feet. It almost seemed as if the droid were smiling.<p>

"Suggestion, Lord Malak: Press your nonextistent lips to my posterior carapace."

The Sith Lord gasped for breath, his eyes rolling wildly; he tumbled to the ground, his legs kicking out reflexively against the shock and pain of his terrible wounds. Juhani felt the Force heave and shudder, and then Malak was flying across the room to land next to her - next to another empty pedestal.

"You won't die, Malak," Val hissed, one hand pressed to the wound burned into her stomach. "I can still use you. You're strong in the Force, stronger than all these Jedi Masters you enslaved. I hope you enjoy eternity with them."

She heard it, Juhani was sure she heard Malak's whisper.

"Why... couldn't the Jedi... have saved... me?"

Val staggered under an unseen blow, tears still streaming. For a moment she looked hesitant, sorrowful. "I don't know, Squint. I wish they could have saved both of us."

The Force held Malak upright just long enough. He didn't cry out as the black took him.

* * *

><p>"Perhaps Revan hoped that an emotional personality would be easier to defeat than anything the Jedi might have programmed her with," Juhani suggested.<p>

"I imagine that she has had quite the surprise, then," Dreln quipped.

Bastila joined them, still pale but well on the mend. She linked one arm through Juhani's. "Will Valena live?"

"That is, perhaps, up to her," Dreln said. "And up to your Force."


	22. Before the Endar Spire

**XXII. Before the Endar Spire**

Revan woke to darkness and disorientation. She couldn't see or hear anything, but the sensory deprivation wasn't complete.

Liquid fingers purled through her hair; the salty tang inside the breath mask made her gag. A kolto tank, then. The prick of needles in her arms explained the muzziness in her head. It explained something else, too, she realized, as she tried to reach out to the Force - which slipped through her mental grasp, as fluid as the kolto gurgling around her.

She'd done a stint with the Healers, back in her padawan days, and they had a trick to incapacitate the powers of a Jedi too far gone in pain or sickness. _Kaltheromide_, she cursed to herself, and fell asleep again.

When Revan woke, she was ready. She reached up to yank the offending needles from her arms - but the blasted Jedi had thought of that, too. Her hands had been immobilized in something unmoving and solid; probably the sort of full-arm binders the CSF back on Coruscant used on especially dangerous offenders.

She ought to be complimented, Revan thought, and slipped into another nap.

_This is ridiculous_, she snarled to herself, awake again and scowling at the nasty kolto taste that trickled through the mask. Kaltheromide and its chemical relatives weren't supposed to cause drowsiness - or these sudden lapses in consciousness that she was having. She felt another one pulling her down, and tried to count the seconds as her tiny world slipped away -

- and was unable to say how many minutes or hours had passed when she snapped to awareness again.

Concussion, she finally decided, which fit the tender feeling in her head that persisted despite the kolto. And that reminded her of the attack, the ship jolting under a traitorous barrage, something exploding next to her, and fire crawling over her skin -

Peaceful black for a time.

She woke with a throat-tearing howl that let more kolto into the breath mask. _How ironic! My cowardly traitor of an apprentice fails to murder me, and I proceed to drown instead in a vat of healing fluid!_

The mask's safety purged the fluid, though, and Revan sighed. _Saved from ignominious death by mindless mechanism. They'll make songs of it someday._ She shoved her anger down where it couldn't do any more damage, and cleared her mind.

This time she let her subconscious work when sleep dragged her down again.

The concussion was the source of the muzziness in her head, she decided when she came to, not the drug. If it was the drug, she couldn't fight it, and therefore it must be the concussion.

Revan thought back to the last thing she remembered.

_(Fire and pain.)_

The plan had been simple: present the fleet and the location of the Star Forge, surrender everything they knew about the real enemy, and let the Republic take care of the rest. She was tired, she wanted to find somewhere to call home, even if it was a prison cell... But Malak - she should have seen it, she knew he'd become unstable, that was simply what the dark side _did_ to people after a while. People who weren't prepared, who didn't realize that you had to control the dark side, or it would control you.

All her plans were for naught, now, and the galaxy would die.

_(I trusted you!)_

A whisper of regret as awareness flickered again, and Revan couldn't tell whether it was for Malak's betrayal, or for her having doomed him.

It didn't matter anymore. That was a lie, of course, but it was a soothing one to take with her into another sleep.

Kaltheromide, she remembered when she came to again, was also a powerful hypnotic. That told her what the Jedi were planning to do with her. A moment of panic swept over her, but she gripped it, used it to hammer away at the chemical walls around her mind. She had failed - she couldn't let them take her now -

Numb blankness for another while, and again, while between naps she hammered away with every bit of mental strength until she was left with nothing but exhausted resignation.

_Through victory my chains are broken_, she thought bitterly. _I could use a good victory right about now._

She would not let the Jedi reprogram her. If she was going to be someone else, it would be someone Revan could defeat, someone weak - someone that Revan could eventually take back her psychic real estate from.

Now, as she faded in and out of awareness, she built instead of trying to destroy. When the healers began the personality implant, the person who came out of that would be the one Revan had created.

* * *

><p>The crate finally opened, the kolto drained away as the walls of the tank parted. It was dark outside. A young human woman, a Jedi, peered into the tank at the apparently half-dead figure hanging from arm binders.<p>

"Revan," she said. It was the idealistic young fool who'd ignored her surrender and tried to capture her. _Had_ captured her, actually, after Malak made surrender impossible. Basilica, or something like that. She felt delicate fingers fumbling at the needles in her arm. Unexpected, and interesting - a padawan disobeying orders?

"What are you doing?"

Snatching her hands away as if she'd been burned, the girl stared at Revan. "I - they want to - I mean, it's horrible!" she finally got out. "If you wish, I can kill you instead."

She raised her head tiredly to look at the girl. "You're serious about this." She felt another nap coming on, but this was far too good to miss, and somehow Revan managed to stay groggily awake.

"It's wrong!" the padawan hissed. "They Jedi preach compassion, and they refuse to execute their prisoners, but then - this is _wrong!_"

"Ready to start wearing black robes and cackling, are we?"

The kid just stared at her for a moment, then shook her head defiantly.

"Good. You'd make a miserable Sith, just so you know."

"I have no intention of - "

"The answer is no. I can't let you kill me. My mission's too important. So I am willing to put up with what the Jedi have in mind, on one condition."

A step forward, and she blurted out, "I'll help you, Revan, I swear! Whatever you ask."

Revan stopped for a moment, appalled. Something stirred inside her, and the padawan gasped. "What under the stars was that?"

"That was you, girl. You just made yourself my apprentice."

"What? No!"

"I'm afraid so. But don't worry, I won't be me for very much longer. And the bond will be useful, I'll be able to communicate with you, at least a little."

There were voices in the distance, and the young woman looked off into the night, frightened and ashamed.

"Listen to me: when your masters get done with me, I won't _be_ Revan anymore. But you're the big hero who captured me, so they'll probably keep you assigned to me. Make sure that - whoever I am, until the real me can regain control - make sure you keep me on the straight and narrow."

The Jedi stared at her. "You don't... want to be a Sith?"

Revan heaved a sigh, trying to keep her feet under her, and explained, her voice beginning to slur. "I don't want any competition when it's time for me to come back... out... again..."

Footsteps drew closer, and Revan felt darkness closing in again, as voices called out to the young Jedi hero.

"Revan?" she whispered. "Are you...?"

But by then Revan was gone - hiding within a dark, enclosed space, behind a night-black door, inside what had once been her own mind.

Not until Kashyyyk did Revan begin to suspect that she had miscalculated. By the time she was able to return, it was too late. Val had won.


	23. Mandalore

**A/N:** This is the final chapter. Parts of it have been sitting in my head for ages. Now that it's finally complete, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Thank you so very much to everyone who has stuck around for this beast. Your comments and messages have meant the world to me!

* * *

><p><strong>XXIII. Mandalore<strong>

"Revan?"

Val woke to Bastila's voice. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't call me that."

Bastila offered Val a watery smile, her pretty, delicate face lined with tears and worry. Val waved her closer, and when Bastila leaned over, gave her as hard a hug as she could manage. "You okay?"

"I am now," Bastila murmured back.

"Hey, princess," Carth added.

Val stared at him. "_What?_"

He grinned, showing none of the distrust or anger that had plagued him for... well, for as long as she'd known him. "Sorry, I just always wanted to do that. Never had the nerve before."

"You do realize I don't even have to this bed to kill you, right?"

And then she couldn't help grinning back.

"Where's..."

"Sleeping," Bastila answered, and then added, "finally."

"Is everyone else all right?"

They nodded; then at a look from Carth, Bastila turned to go, leaving Val alone with him.

"I, uh, I wanted to apologize, Val, for not trusting you when I should have."

"Carth - don't. I mean, thank you. For _not_ trusting me." He gave her a disbelieving look, so she tried to explain. "Thank you for not trusting me, because it made me not trust myself. And I think that was probably a really, really good thing."

"Don't talk like that, you would have done the right - "

"Yeah, that would have been a first."

"Hey - hey now, Val - "

"Mission," she threw at him. "And Jolee, and Cazen, and everyone on Taris, and even that awful Darth Bandon, because he was just a stupid kid, and Bastila was right, and I never should have..."

"Get out of here, Onasi."

He got.

Canderous stood in the doorway for a long time, just looking at her. Finally Val was able to breathe again. She tried to get up to go to him, but a sharp pulling sensation in her abdomen stopped her. Her hand flew to her stomach, feeling strange bumps and ridges beneath her shift.

"Republic medics used up the last of our kolto on the internal injuries," Canderous explained. "They had more, but - rationing. They decided to close you up the old-fashioned way."

Val pulled the thin cloth away and grimaced at the thick black threads pinching her flesh together. She rolled slightly to touch her back, felt the same barbaric stitches there as well.

His hands stopped hers, helping Val relax again. "How long...?"

"Too long," he whispered roughly. "I almost thought... _fierfek_. But... it may sound strange, Val, but I knew you would wake up. Funny thing for an old _Mando'ad_, but I've learned to trust the Force."

He kissed her, then sat in the chair Val hadn't noticed was next to her bed.

"I'm officially a hero, Val," he said. "We all are. Had the stupid ceremony last week down in the mess hall in front of all the Republic pukes. They even tried to get holocams in here with you, but we all... convinced them otherwise."

He looked and sounded tired, she decided. Exhausted, beaten up, and at the end of his formidable Mandalorian endurance.

"Go back to bed," she told him, but he was already asleep in his chair.

* * *

><p>Aristocra Aied'rel'nuruodo was well aware, Val knew, of the alarming effect his people's physical characteristics could have on baseline humans. He was looking especially grim now, as Admiral Dodonna gave her scathing response to what, exactly, Revan and Malak had discovered in the Unknown Regions.<p>

" - the wildest flights of fancy and delusions I have ever personally heard," Dodonna spat, "and I've heard nearly everything!"

She, Dreln, and Bastila had met Forn in the officers' mess, exchanging careful pleasantries that had quickly devolved into scorn on the admiral's part and cold fury on Val's. Like most Republic officers, Forn Dodonna's imagination extended only into battle tactics and political maneuvering.

"That reaction," Val said quietly, "is why Malak and I decided to simply invade. What we saw - what we barely escaped from - we didn't expect anyone to believe us. But we knew that if we started a war, the Republic would have to mobilize, would have to beef up its military expenditures."

"So the death of Telos was to protect the galaxy?" Dodonna laughed bitterly.

Dreln made a threatening sound in the back of his throat, his eyes gleaming. "Twelve years ago, the Families received nearly simultaneous pleas for help from three of our client races. My father, a high syndic, took it upon himself to investigate - against the wishes of the more cautious voices in the ruling Families." His eyes shifted dangerously. "We received a single, garbled message. I was tasked to find out what had happened."

He was silent for a moment; Dodonna leaned forward and cocked one eyebrow in long-suffering acquiescence.

"My father's fleets were gone. We never found any sign of them. Of the three systems, we found two of the worlds - their atmospheric compositions dramatically altered, their original biospheres destroyed in abrupt mass extinctions, and their cities reduced to uninhabited rubble. The third world... no longer existed. The gravitational disturbances caused by whatever had happened had significantly perturbed the orbits of the small inner planets. Of the world in question - nothing; only an unexpected asteroid field, and something large - large enough, perhaps to have once been... but..."

"I grant that any weapon that could destroy a planet - " Dodonna began, but Dreln cut her off with a quick gesture.

"The asteroid field was not large enough to be planetary rubble, and composition readings of the large planetary body did not match the mineralogy of the original world. And... these objects behaved like living beings."

A long silence greeted that.

"The galaxy is a big place," Dodonna said placatingly, "with many strange species and technologies."

"The rest of the universe is even bigger," Val snapped. She was still recovering from the awful lightsaber wound; although she could walk again and the stitches were gone, her energy level and temperament were both fairly short.

"Extragalactic?" the admiral scoffed. "The hyperspace barrier at the far Outer Rim - "

"Our physicists suspect it is artificial," Dreln shot back, "and weakening."

"Impossible!"

Even Bastila seemed taken aback, but she interjected gently, "Perhaps not. The ancients who built Centerpoint - "

The admiral cut her off. "Again, speculation - speculation which is _classified_ - " she glanced angrily at Dreln - "and Centerpoint Station is irrelevant to this discussion."

"It's circumstantial evidence," Val allowed, "but a lot of it. We have an installation which can... do very interesting things at very interesting distances, we have an apparently artificial hyperspace barrier, and we have the Star Forge. All three created by ancient, hyper advanced civilizations which seem to have had the presence of mind to realize that it's a big universe out there!"

"Fanciful castles built from nothing but starlight and madness. It beggars belief. And if your mythical ancients feared extragalactic invasion, where are these even more mythical ancient invaders?"

"Arkanians, Ryn, humans - that's three species just off the top of my head whose planets of evolutionary origin have been lost to time and never rediscovered." She let the implications of that sink in.

"Ridiculous." Dodonna rose, finished off the last of her Corellian port, and laid a data card on the table next to Val with a decisive click. "The findings of the Senate Select Committee on Jedi Affairs," she pronounced. "Official gratitude or no, Revan - Valena - whatever you're calling yourself these days - you have one week from this notification to leave Republic space, before you are arrested and executed. If the Star Forge station is still in orbit after that week, my fleet _will_ ensure its destruction. I suggest you put your affairs in order."

She gave a millimetrically correct bow, turned on her heel, and left.

* * *

><p>Zaalbar was the first, and the easiest. They ate in mutually uncomfortable silence in an off-hours, mostly deserted mess hall on the lower decks.<p>

The nerf-and-biscuit stew reminded her of Jolee's concoction back on Kashyyyk, meaty and savory, but under-spiced.

Zaalbar finally broke the silence. He was accompanying a science team tomorrow morning down to the surface of Rakata Prime to retrieve Mission's remains. Then he and Mission would take a relief flight back to Republic space: back to Kashyyyk, where he and his father would give Mission proper rites, and where she could rest peacefully near those who would remember her with love.

Val didn't mention life debts. Neither did Zaalbar.

She wondered if the Wookiees even had a word for the sort of debt now weighing on Zaalbar's soul.

* * *

><p>"Take it to Korriban."<p>

"What is it?"

"Information about what's waiting out there. Everything I - everything Revan and Malak found. It's important, Bastila."

Bastila stared in dismay at the pulsing red of the holocron resting in her hands. "But - shouldn't the Jedi - "

"Act like they did when the Mandalorians invaded?" Val challenged.

Juhani interrupted with: "We will give it to Atris. It shall, I expect, be in the hands of the Sith before very much longer."

Val opened her mouth to object, thought about the white-haired, ice-eyed Jedi, and nodded. "You know, I think you're right."

Juhani stopped her before she could walk away. "And what will you do, my friend?" Bastila was looking at her, too, brow furrowed in worry. Val shook her head, unable to meet their eyes.

* * *

><p>"I miss her," Dustil said, "and I barely even knew her."<p>

Ice clinked against glass as Carth stared into his still-full drink. "It's the way love works," he muttered sadly. "It never does make any damn sense."

Her whiskey burned all the way down, but it didn't bring Val any comfort.

* * *

><p>It took a long time to locate Canderous. Finally Val went to the docking bay, where she found the <em>Ebon Hawk<em> waiting, its boarding ramp open. A rhythmic ringing sound drifted out from somewhere inside.

The Mandalorian was in the cargo bay, laboring in solitude at the work bench, the autohammer's melody the only sound in the small, empty ship. Next to him on the floor lay a breastplate and one gauntlet in the Jal Shey style, shining as only new armor did. His head was bent over in concentration, the muscles in his back moving smoothly under his fatigues.

Val let her feet scuff on the deck as she walked toward him; the autohammer fell silent as Canderous turned to smile at her.

"I have something for you," he said.

"So I see. It's beautiful."

"Should fit," he grunted, suspicion darkening his eyes as he noticed the catch in her voice. "I think I'm pretty familiar with your measurements by now."

She couldn't help the blush or the smile, but she shifted the carry sack from her shoulder into her arms. "I... have something for you, too, Canderous."

He circled her with his strong arms, the weight of the sack hard between them. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, then unwrapped her gift and let the sack fall to the floor.

"What is this?" His voice was cold.

There were no windows in the cargo hold. Val would have given anything for a window to stare out of, for stars or trees or summer clouds to lose herself in.

"You know the history between Sith and Mandalorians," he growled, "and _you_ are giving me _this?_" The cargo hold's sharp-edged lighting gleamed viciously on a T-slit visor. "I trusted you," he whispered. "_I trusted you!_"

"I know."

He stalked away, then turned around again, his face white with rage. "Val..." Hands closed into fists. "No. _Revan_."

Val closed her eyes against her tears, but she still held the Helm, waiting for him to take it. She felt his hand on hers again, and she looked at him - but he wasn't touching her; his hand moved reverentially over the cold curve of the Helm.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

"I won't take this," he declared. "I'm coming with you, but I won't - I _can't_ take this."

"Why?" she managed.

He gestured helplessly, then finally said, "_Dar'manda_."

She pushed the Helm into his hands, but he backed away again. "Then give it to someone else, Canderous. Someone who can..."

"Can what? Lead the clans in another war for the Sith? Bring more dishonor to my people?" His jaw clenched. She wanted to brush her fingers across his cheek, bring a smile to his craggy face, but she knew if she touched him now that something terrible would happen.

It had come to this, in the end. Revan had won.

He looked at her, finally, and it was as if a chasm had opened behind his eyes. Slowly he knelt, and she could feel the shame burning in him. "What do you wish of me?"

She almost ran, almost dropped the Helm and fled. "Not that," she whispered. "Canderous, get up, this isn't what I ever wanted!"

"It's all you've left me with."

A sob broke from her, tears splashing against the Helm. She wiped them off, not wanting to leave the precious thing defaced with her grief. Then his hands were gentle on hers again, and for a moment he was touching _her_, not just the Helm, and then the moment was gone.

Canderous held the Helm between his hands, the weight of it dragging his shoulders down.

"Gather the clans," Val said. "There's something out there - and I swear, if I can come back, I will, but - "

He looked at her a final time, his face bleak. He nodded shortly and whispered - almost too low for her to hear, "_Mhi solus dar'tome._" She buried her face in her hands, but if he was brave enough to face her, she had to give him the same.

He studied her features as if memorizing them. Then he donned the Helm, and Canderous was gone. There was only the Mandalore.

* * *

><p>The <em>Hawk<em> rested quietly in one of the thousands of docking bays within the Star Forge, T3 powered down and waiting inside. Val had stowed HK, too, his power converters safely removed, motivators disassembled. She owed the droid better than this, but she knew it wouldn't be safe - for anyone - to let him wander on his own.

Dreln walked beside Val, touring the Forge for the first time since they had finalized their agreement, more than a decade before. He stopped for a moment in front of a humanoid statue, his eyes finding something familiar in the obsidian face of what had been an old soldier. Val adjusted the fit of one of her new gauntlets.

They continued on until they came to the control center, the huge circular gallery at the heart of the machine.

"You have the coordinates?" Dreln asked.

Val gave an affirming nod. The combined intelligences of the Star Forge's occupants meant that no astromech or computer brain would be needed in the calculations for the hyperspace jump.

Far below them in the southern pole of the Forge, ancient engines thrummed and sang, eager to move for the first time in uncounted millennia. Dreln gave her his good wishes, and departed. Val caught his tired resignation, his expectation that none of his people would survive this final mission. She understood the feeling.

Walking through the gallery, Valena greeted the obsidian watchers like old friends. Her heart clenched whenever she recognized a face, but mostly they were the alien visages of Rakata slaves.

She stopped in front of Malak. His mind was there, too, somewhere, indistinguishable from the millions of psychic voices humming through unpiloted fighters, uncrewed battleships, bringing them into the Forge's docking bays in preparation for departure.

Somewhere out there, beyond the Unknown Regions, beyond the far Rim, out there in intergalactic space, an enemy lurked. The Star Forge was a weapon of unimaginable power, the source of an unending fleet she could throw at any threat for however many years or decades or even centuries it took to defeat them. And she _would_ defeat them, even if it meant...

There was an empty pedestal waiting next to her old apprentice.

No. She would come back someday.

The Mandalore was waiting.

_**End.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Final notes:<strong> The inspiration for this story came from Kreia. When she confronts the Mandalore on Dxun, his reaction begs for something to fit it, something more than the canon Revan. And the enemy waiting on the Outer Rim - Canderous' story about the asteroid that fought back, combined with Kreia's explanation of where Revan went... that just screamed Yuuzhan Vong to me. Finally, the fact that the Yuuzhan Vong did not invade (again) until four thousand years later... well, that tells me that Revan was at least partially successful.

I have no idea if she ever did come back; I'll leave that up to you to decide.

Thank you so much for staying with me this far, and I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I did writing it!


End file.
